Another Post About My Boobs

Because it's a little depressing that we're still here waiting, I'll share another story about my pregnant boobs. So far they've been a great source of entertainment for others throughout the pregnancy (hopefully, they're as good of a source of food for the baby!).

At last week's appointment I saw my midwife's partner. They trade off a visit near the end of term for each patient, just in case you end up being delivered by the other. This midwife was very nice, very focused on educating her patients, and very very midwify. I've heard that she's an excellent breastfeeding educator so I asked a few questions to take advantage of her knowledge. The rest of the visit then went like this:

Her: "Well, how are your nipples?"

Me: "Uh, fine, thank you."

Her: "Do they work?"

Me: "Uh, yes...?"

Her: "Have you tried expressing breastmilk?"

Me: Look of horror and shock

Her: "Want me to try?"

Me: Much bigger look of horror. "Uh, no, that's ok."

Her: "C'mon..."

Me: "No!"

Her: "Well, at least let me see them."

Me: "uhhhhhhh. What?"

Her: "Lemme see." Reaching for my boobs.

Me: Look of terror. Glance helplessly at Husband, who is snickering loudly in the corner. 

Me: "What do you want to do? What are you wanting me to do?" Protecting my boobs with my hand. 

Me: "No, it's ok. Really. I'm good."

Her: Moving my hand aside and uncovering a boob. Then, poking, prodding and moving around my nipple. For why, I have no idea!

Her: "Ok, well you look like you'll be fine."

Me: "Uhhhhhhh."

Husband, later, after she left the room: "Wow. You really didn't want to show that woman your boob!"

The Great Wait

Here I sit. Bouncing on my exercise ball because it's the most comfy place to rest. Sitting. Bouncing. Waiting.

At my last midwife appointment half a week ago she predicted that the baby would be here any day. For those who care, at that point I was 80% effaced and 4 cm dilated. As a point of reference for those of you who haven't had kids... many (most?) people get to the hospital in active labor when they're about 4 cm dilated. I've been this way for a week. And 2 cm for a week before that.

I'm ready. But I wasn't. Up until the last day or so I had so many things still to do. Work was crazy busy and I just couldn't get caught up--much less get ahead. My house was a mess. The baby room wasn't done. I still had to pack a bag for the hospital and finish washing clothes.

Now I'm ready. Some of those things are done. Some aren't. But none seem important anymore. The things that must be ready are. The rest don't matter.

Here I sit. Time sits too. Still and hot, like it should in the middle of summer. Except this year, when day could be the day. I expected to spend these last nine months full of joy and excitement. Full of plans and dreams. And I have... kinda. It's been different than I expected. More apprehension. Fewer dreams. Perhaps I'm just not that sentimental, but I tend to live more in the now and less in the future. And NOW is when the future and the now should meet and become the perfect time to greet this little person for real.

Flying By

I keep half-composing blog posts in my head. Sometimes I even jot down a few lines on a piece of paper or on the ipad. And then life moves on and the half-finished thoughts get stuck somewhere in limbo.

I want to talk about all the work we've been doing on the house and how it's finally coming together.

I want to ask about the things I need for this baby that I don't know about yet, or haven't realized I should get ready in advance.

I want to show all of the things we've made for the baby and the baby's room. Things that are pretty. Things that are useful. Things that we hope will be treasured and enjoyed--at least by us, even if she doesn't care.

I want to talk about The Fear. And the strange lack thereof.

I want to complain a bit about the heat and the pains and the fact that I thought when everyone warned me that the last month was hell that they were just exaggerating. For the record, they were most definitely not.

But there is work. So very, very much work. And projects at home. And laundry. And puppies and husbands to care for. Gardens to weed and admire. And occasionally, just a few moments to sit down and put up my feet.

Dear baby,

Please stop trying to exit my uterus through the right side (probably your left). There is no way out there. If you hang on for six more week I'm pretty sure you'll be able to find your way down and out. Thank you, baby.

Love and more love,
Mama

Outnumbered

We're soon to be outnumbered, the Husband and I. As I've been struggling to make space for my (larger) self on the couch between two sleeping mutts, or when I rush to feed the mutts while cooking for the Husband and me, or when I have to rouse two snuggly mutts off the bed so I can find room for the plethora of pillows now required for me to sleep... Well, I'm realizing that we're running out of space, out of hands, and out of the majority.

The giant dog children and the tiny human child will be three... and we are just two. 

A Girl

We are having a girl.

A GIRL, internets, a g i r l.

I've been fortunate to waver evenly on the gender fence... did I want a boy because they generally seem easier to raise? Or a girl because they're what I'm more familiar with, having only a sister? But now I no longer have to wonder as it will be a girl, equally full of ruffles and giant flowered headbands as of dirt and tools.

And although I thought I knew, I find myself wondering... how in the world does one go about raising a girl? 

More Things No One Tells You (or, maybe shouldn't?)

I just had my second favorite conversation with a co-worker about pregnancy-related things. After providing some motherly advice that was all quite useful, if not new, since most everyone else has told me the same things, she goes on to lean in and lower her voice.

"Here's something you should know," she says quietly in the hallway of our busy workplace. "After you have the baby and if you breastfeed, well, just know that if you have an orgasm you'll shoot milk everywhere."

She went on to say that she tries to tell people that now so they aren't surprised like she was.

If the mothers in my office keep this up, there should be very few things I'm not prepared for, right? 

And So It Begins

Some weeks ago I was walking out of a meeting and down the hallway at work when a co-worker popped up next to me. She had started several months ago and we didn't work closely together so although I liked her, I'd only met her a handful of times.

"It's come to my attention that you're expecting," she says.

"Uhhhh."

"Yeah. I mean, I noticed that you were a few weeks ago and I just wanted to say congratulations!" she continues in a lovely, loud voice.

"You noticed? What do you mean you noticed?" I say, pulling my long cardigan a bit closer around me. At this point I'm a little confused. I mean, I could barely tell when I was dressed for work. How could she?

"Well, uh," and here she gestures to my chest, "those boobs? The ones that look like they could feed the whole world? They're kind of obvious."

Ahhhhh, and so it begins. So, feel free. Talk about my boobs. Apparently, my knocked up body is available for public comment.  Hooray!