(4 weeks until arrival)
Holy crap. One month. 28 days!
With that said, the Doc is happy to see that baby any time after two weeks from now…
Baby is now classified as “Early Term”.
He is 6-ish pounds. Baby is getting adorably plump! In fact, he and the fluid I’m carrying around are so heavy that they shift, obviously, when I change position.
Immune system is a go.
Circulatory system is a go.
Digestive system is a go. (Well, for a newborn, that is. Obviously, this one matures after birth.
Respiratory system will be ready next week.
The fundus (top of my uterus) has reached the tip of my breastbone. (See “xiphoid cartilage”, pictured).
My liver and spleen are stuffed into the ‘vault’ of my abdominal cavity. My intestines have been crowded above, behind, and to the sides of my uterus. My diaphragm has been pressed upwards into my chest, reducing the vertical diameter by a much as 4 cm. believe it or not, this displacement actually subtly changed the position if my heart and can cause it to dilate slightly.
Motion from within is so exaggerated that Mike picks it up on his peripheral vision. Baby is STRONG.
Baby has moved. I knew it last Saturday. Since Baby was on a diagonal and faced my left side for several weeks, I’ve felt no movement on my right side. Now I do. Baby is not on a diagonal anymore. He is straight up and down. WRIGGLING. The doctor showed me how to feel his head!
I see the Doctor every week now.
Spoke with DaCunha about specifics for delivery. My – and our – minds are happily at rest. It seems that all my preferences are standard practice with him.
He WILL be my delivery doctor. He spoke confidently of leaving hockey games for patients. Or, since he is planning to be away one weekend in November, coming back from or not going to that conference in Jasper. He said that, in a given YEAR, he might miss 1-2 deliveries. We spoke, as well, on when to head to the hospital and what circumstances warranted going to or calling the Doctor’s office.
I feel good. Mike likes him too, which is good.
Apparently, my uterus feels it doesn’t need to practice for the big day as I’ve still had NO Braxton Hicks contractions.
I do, however, get debilitating cramps in my hip joints. This is a sign of further loosening and opening if my pelvis. I imagine I’ll be grateful for it in a few weeks.
Weight gain has slowed but is steady. The nurse commented that I gained *only* 1kg in the last two weeks. (!).
Nesting urges in full swing.
MUST CLEAN ALL THE THINGS.
Mike exclaimed in surprise and frustration when he awoke to me sitting on the floor scrubbing the inside glass of the oven door… “Please, hunny, just take it easy. That is only two months old and doesn’t need to be cleaned!”
I CAN’T BREATHE.
Also, I can’t sleep.
With so little room for Baby to exercise in, plus the promise of imminent “dropping” all sites and apps warn that I should not be concerned about decreased activity. Poppycock. CONSTANT ACTIVITY. Some days I’m exhausted simply from the incessant pummeling.
Though not possible, it feels like I’m getting punched in the hip joint!!
Evenings are the hardest. For comfort, mobility, and nausea.
Nursery is finished/assembled/out away. It just needs a rug, a chair, and maybe a little table.
Since baby could arrive at any time, this week was for stocking up on essentials. For both of us & home, for me, and for Baby.
I have a confession. I have loved being pregnant, and I have, to date, been enamoured by my rounding figure. Sadly, the second part of that is over. I do not look “cute” in anything. I weigh more than I have, ever, in my life before. I do not fit into anything… I’m just big. I can close my eyes, ignore clothes and turn away from mirrors and then it is just me and Baby. That love still grows. There is not distortion or ugliness in that space. Nothing but possibilities in every twitch and kick. But I am tempted to lock myself in a dark room alone for the remainder of the pregnancy so that I don’t have to watch what it does to me. I laugh so I do not cry when it’s hard to get up from lying down. I giggle with Mike about my pregnant waddle so as not to allow myself to be horrified.
I know I shouldn’t allow these negative opinions, but I try to accept my feelings at face value since I am all too aware of the seduction and danger of the Blues.
When I’m semi-curled up, baby can kick/punch me in the thighs because that’s how far out my belly sticks. Mike came towards me to give me a hug, but before he arrived at his destination, he collided with my belly. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I love being pregnant. I love sharing my body with baby. But I’m ready not to be huge anymore.