35 Weeks :: 35 Days

I had to point out in the title to this post that at the 35 week point, the average pregnancy only last another 35 days.

Parenting advice from dad:
“No. 1 rule for new moms: Any song sung softly enough is a lullabye.”

Yes, I know this post is a few days late. My weekend was dedicated to last-minute bridesmaid meetings, dog-sitting trial runs, social meetings, and co-throwing a really fantastic bridal shower for my BFF. My feet aren’t hurting too badly this morning, despite the really ambitious red crocodile pattern high heels I wore for most of the day, or the fact that I was standing or sitting upright from 8 AM til 7 PM. My lower back was a little sore last night, but that’s par for the course. I fell asleep at 10 PM and didn’t really wake up til the morning. But I’m looking forward with relish to the extended weekend coming up.

We grew in week 35. Significantly. People have stopped telling me I’m too small and have started telling me that I look fabulous, very healthy, and am carrying it well. So that’s a comfort! My own weight didn’t change significantly from 33 weeks to 35, so the friend who remarked yesterday “It’s all baby!” is on to something.

The extended weather forecast is very rainy with passing storms, with a bit of a break in early June expected and then back to rain and storms afterward. Given that we’ve already had a weather-related run-in, and that she’s already head down and shouldering the exit (she had a fabulous time socializing at the bridal shower and testing gravity!), I’m wary of the forecast the way it looks now. She’s “lightened” — gotten her bony feet and knees out of my lungs — but not yet “dropped.”

As I’m fond of saying: 4 weeks — or less.

Why It’s Awesome to be a Nerd….Girl.

An open letter to Baby Violet and baby girl nerds everywhere, from Wil Wheaton:

Posted by Violet’s Mommy. Violet’s Mommy is awesome.

34 Weeks :: 6 Weeks

I think that it’s time to start not just counting up, but counting down to the official Estimated Due Date. She may come earlier; she may come later; but at some point soon, she’ll be here.

We are switching out of “pregnancy” mode here and in to “delivery” mode. I’m making bag-packing lists, scheduling hospital visits, calling pediatricians, and installing car seat bases in the next week or two. There’s a play yard/sleeper in the living room that is currently a convenient place to fold tiny mountains of baby laundry, but will soon be the empire of a tiny little empress. I’m washing aforementioned mountains of baby laundry. We need to clean out and reorganize the bathroom closet so her little basket of baby bath supplies can have a convenient home (right next to the little basket of doggie bath supplies). Amy is going to have a practice afternoon of dogsitting next weekend so that when Jim and I have to rush out and other people come to feed and hang out with her for a little while, she doesn’t think it’s too weird. Luckily our volunteer dogsitters are folks she knows and loves already, so she just needs to be like, “Okay, they know how to feed and walk me, that’s all good.” She’ll still try to make them conform to her idea of a schedule, so I have to make sure to warn them about her little tricks.

Amy helps with one of the mountains of baby laundry.

Jabs and kicks are getting stronger, to the point where I was almost off to sleep last night when a particularly fierce and sudden one woke me up with a yelp. Alright, I’ll roll over! The  low pressure wave we’ve been sitting in since Wednesday evening has made her fidgety, to the point where there is hardly an hour when she isn’t up to something, or suddenly shifting and putting all her weight down on my pelvic bone for a split second. I am placing a bet that she’s born during a low pressure swing. She is mostly quiet at night and in to the morning, though after I eat breakfast she starts to roll around. I credit the coffee for that, even when it’s half-caff.

Speaking of the furchild, she’s gotten gluey. She follows me from room to room even more than usual, watching me with wide, liquid eyes (see above photo), and weighing my feet down when I elevate them at night so I can’t get away from her. I’m getting more “helicopter ears” and goofy smiles than usual, and she keeps looking from baby bump up to my face and back to bump. As a two-time mother herself, I’m sure she knows what’s going on and can also sense the subtle changes in my hormones and scent that tell her the time is getting close. We keep wondering if she can hear something going on in there, as evidenced by the look on her face in this picture:

Shh! I think I hear something!

Oh, Little Amy. Your life is about to change…for the better, I think. Every dog needs a girl to call her very own.

33 Weeks: Drip drip drop, little April showers

Baby updates: Everything seems to be growing on schedule, and Miss has already (probably) turned head-down. She’s roughly the size and heft of a pineapple. Ultrasound next week will give us a clue to her potential weight and length! And maybe I will get a peek at what appeared at the last ultrasound to be a terribly cute nose!

This past week saw the flawless execution of a surprise-not-a-surprise-baby-shower by Meghan Makes It, Deep Thought Thursdays, and Alluringly Short. Some things I had to know in advance, like the date (last Saturday), location (dog friendly!), and that my out-of-state parents, out-of-another-state in-laws, and out-of-yet-another-state grandmother were coming (in addition to local guests). Or else I’d have been catatonic on the doorstep and probably run and hid like a startled rabbit. But I didn’t know the theme, the game plan, or the details in advance — just that there had been a few casual questions about any weird food cravings I might have had, and that a book about a moose who fell in love with a steam engine and liked buttermilk and root beer may have planted the seed of inspiration…

The word best used to describe the event that I heard was “irreverent,” followed by “like a fun party.” And it really was more like a fun spring party than a baby shower, which helped me feel relaxed enough to really enjoy myself and all the thoughtful little touches.

Theme: forest animals and nature. Baby deer, baby hedgehogs, birdies and bunnies, flowers, acorns, pine cones, tree branches, lots of natural touches and pink, green, and brown colors. Basically, my nursery inspiration.  In fact, one of the grapevine wreath decorations with a baby deer and baby’s name might have already been hung up by the closet in the nursery, since it was in such perfect harmony with our room decor. Many of the decorations were inspired by Mother Nature and courtesy of Jenn’s backyard. I may have coveted some jute-twine covered vases… And just to add to the festiveness, Mother Nature obliged with a beautiful spring day, clear skies, good sunshine, and a festival of blooming bushes, flowers, and trees.

Drool-worthy menu:
sliced bread with lemon curd and raspberry preserves
cheese & crackers
veggies & hummus
creamy cheesy bacon ranch dip and chips (I can’t explain it, except it is basically crack; maybe Meghan will take pity on us all and blog the recipe)
spiced Indian lentils
cauliflower curry (with nutmeg! yum!)
saag paneer (spinach and cheese curry)
basmati rice with peas
stuffed Italian shells*
chicken broccoli pasta alfredo*
mini cinnamon buns
chocolate peanut butter “puppy chow”
mini candy bar favors
caramel brownies (SO good)
brownie bites
AWESOME chocolate chip cookies
maple-blueberry baby shower forest cake

*leftovers took up residence in my freezer for use as baby meals

P.S., the cake had a marzipan moose on top. Just in case things couldn’t get any more adorable. And the fondant banner adorning the cake said “Welcome River.” I think that was way better than “Congratulations Mom & Dad,” because let’s be real, this was her party, and totally not a party for me. I just happen to be incubating the honoree at the time and therefore had to absorb the attention and good will that was really meant for her, until she can get here and be the center of attention herself. The whole event was really about how adorable she is going to be in her super fabulous (and surprisingly well coordinated) new wardrobe.

The baby shower gift bingo game was a stroke of GENIUS. I felt like I could finally contribute to people’s enjoyment of the shower (and take attention off of myself!) by opening all the lovely gifts and showing them off so people could win at bingo! I also invented a game we now call “Decorate the Daddy,” where all the bows and ribbons from gifts have to be tied on to, stuck to, or otherwise draped over the dad-to-be. It was really just another ploy to distract from how awkward I felt being the center of attention by tying pink ribbons around Jim’s neck a la Marie from Disney’s The Aristocats. But it worked out amazingly well. I think we shall have to encourage it at all subsequent baby showers thrown by our social circle.

Also, I invented the term “nose squeegee” because I couldn’t think of “nasal aspirator.” Pregnancy brain strikes without warning and the results are sometimes hilarious.

I leave you this week with a picture of the fabulous cake by trained pastry chef Heather:

32 Weeks: Again, Ugh

Ugh, again. Last Friday when I posted, it looked like things were going to be resolving themselves pretty quickly here in Boston Town. I went on with my day, one ear tuned to the news. We left for  a friend’s house at dinnertime, as planned. Then they called off the shelter-in-place for the affected towns. I said, “Watch, someone flushes him right out, now.” And not thirty minutes later, that’s exactly what happened. So we were all glued to the news coverage in, and there’s no other word for this, an orgy of anxiety and tension. Trying to read the body language of the uniforms standing outside the house in Watertown where there appeared to be a standoff — or something — taking place. Not daring to budge for fear of missing something.

But I made cake batter dip for graham crackers and strawberries, so that was AWESOME.

The drawn out tension of Friday night made Saturday feel like Sunday, and Sunday feel like some weird Sunday-Monday hybrid, Smunday. The weather so far this week is similarly bizarre-o and is having its own ups and downs. Sunny but warm; sunny but chilly; overcast; rainy and windy; sunny but windy; sunny and warm. Dear Spring, can’t you just settle down and enjoy yourself? Why all this whiplash?

Finally, right on the 32 week mark, a break in the weather. A sunny, gorgeous day, and Amy’s been to the groomer, and the house is almost clean for company. Within a ten hour span Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, though, two things happened (or were brought to my attention) that split my heart right in two. A friend and her husband on the West Coast welcomed their daughter in to the world, who, despite needing a breathing machine at first and then positive pressurized room air, was strong and well, and Mama tired but recovering. My heart could not be happier for them! Another mom pulled through and another baby made her debut (the — fourth? of…seven? — among my friends and acquaintances this spring). That was Tuesday night, and then I went to bed, but when I woke up Wednesday morning, came the heart-splitting, soul-wrenching news that another friend and his wife had lost their son a few days earlier, at 18 wks. The fear, and the sorrow, and the punch in the gut, all of it was there and melting in to a messy, mixed-up layer on top of the joy and gladness I felt for my other friends. I spent the day with my heart literally split in two halves, one of joy and one of sorrow, feeling both selfishly impatient and selfishly relieved at every little bump, roll, stretch, and jab from the Miss. To the point where I didn’t mind lying awake for an hour in the wee dark this morning being pummeled, since it meant she was strong and snug. I’m still being pummeled, so she’s still banging away in there.

Oh how fragile is a life, the smallest and the biggest all the same. What a difference a mere moment can make, for better or for worse. Tell everyone you love them today.

31 Weeks: Ugh

Ugh. Modified rest is hard for someone like me, who thrives on multi-tasking and takes pride in how much I can accomplish in any given day. I’m spending way more time on my feet than I probably should, but it feels like I’ve got to in order to accomplish anything at all. So I made the world’s most amazing to-do list, boxed out by room in which each task must be accomplished, and then immediately mixed up an entire box of waffle mix and cooked up waffles for the freezer. What? I was getting annoyed by the unopened box of mix way up on the top shelf, because I have things that I could put there. And instead of throwing it out, I figured I’d just bake them up and freeze them because I now have an enormous freezer in the basement.

What a week it has been. Jim & I were home on Monday (had just returned from running errands in Q) and just getting out of the car when we heard the two blasts from Copley. It was ten minutes or so before we turned on the news and found out what was happening. I was awake last night when news of the MIT shooting emerged, but it was 7 this morning before we discovered it was tied to the Marathon bombings. Events seem to progressing rapidly at this point, and I am hopeful it will be brought to a close this day. And that no more deaths will occur, because the 5 that have already occurred are more than enough.

In other news, I’m up to my eardrums with the so-called care I’m getting at my doctors’ office. I’m just not feeling connected to them or cared for (in the holistic sense of the word). Yesterday the physician prescribed me a Pregnancy Class C antibiotic for a minor infection that is not developed enough to manifest any physical symptoms. Class C drugs, by the way, are not entirely safe for pregnant women. This one has warnings for the first trimester but not later, but at least the nurse I talked to this morning said that she wouldn’t take a Class C antibiotic when she was pregnant, either. For the first time, I felt like someone in the medical community was standing with me, instead of against me! So I still haven’t taken the medication, and am currently waiting for a callback on whether there are any other alternatives. Class C drugs should be used only if the benefits outweigh the (developmental, cardiac, potential) risks. And as far as I’m concerned, at this point they don’t. So there.

If there’s one thing I’m enjoying about this particular shenanigan, it’s that I’m establishing an early track record for refusing or questioning the drugs they’re blithely prescribing. Might make it easier to refuse certain drugs later on if I’m already known to be adverse to drug interventions…

Little Miss is the size of a pineapple (yum!) or 4 navel oranges (meh).

Edited to add: I can still see my feet. Shouldn’t they be strangers to me by now? Is this yoga’s doing?

Boston, you are the only, only, only

Yes, I’m singing the chorus to “Tessie” today. We were all safe at home when we heard the dual blasts about ten seconds apart. In fact, we’d just pulled in to the driveway from running errands around Q. Could smell faint smoke, maybe from the JFK fire, and could tell by the change in the noise when the FAA instituted the temporary ground stop to change the takeoff-landing pattern. Head and heart both baffled this evening.

Take a tip from the herding dogs: Stick with your loved ones today!