“I smell Oreos, Christina?” I swear to you this was just spoken by a co-worker passing by. I laughed but no I am not eating oreos. My attitude has come a LONG way since the early days when my daily intake was so closely monitored. This is just one of the many changes I have noticed in myself in the past 9 months. I’m less critical of myself and of others, I drive a little safer, Mike’s jokes cause me to scold him at times and he has noticed, he even accused me of going soft. He is right, this baby isn’t here yet but he has changed me already. Learning to laugh at myself a little more is a gift! I have pigged out at work a few times and you know what, who cares? If someone is going to make a joke about it, I don’t take it to heart I just laugh. Yup, I took two doughnuts. Who has to decide between jelly and chocolate? Maybe it is funny to see a previously thin woman pork out and loose sight of her feet? Whatever the reason I can handle it. Food is good, I’m having a baby and I can go on a diet in just a few weeks.
My mood is still on the stable side, thank goodness. My weekend was very productive in both housework and rest. One day for each, though my body would appreciate if I did more of a half and half. I really did overdo it on Saturday but it felt so good to get the house super clean! I cleaned windows and walls (you have to wash your walls when you have a bulldog) I was on my hands and knees for over an hour with a spray bottle of cleaner in one hand and a scrub brush in the other, cleaning the grout of the kitchen floor. It looks fantastic but holy crap I could hardly move a few hours later. I call bs on nesting! I think it’s more to do with the influx of family members who will see the bottom of your refrigerator than getting the house ready for baby.
The baby stuff is ready, everything is washed and put away, organized and where I think it belongs for now. The only thing to do for him is install his car seat and pack a few things for the hospital. The tour guide this weekend advised that the seat be installed in your 36th week, that is this week! I don’t know when we will do it, seems like a big deal to drive around with a car seat. Granted it needs doing before his arrival. Speaking of which, I’m just one week from “full term” meaning the bun is done people! The rest of his time spent with me will be for him to put on a little more weight and to make sure he has fully explored each and every one of my internal organs with his feet!
The hospital tour was almost fun! I was a little nervous on the way there; afraid of what I may see and getting even more worried about what could go wrong but it wasn’t like that at all. They talked to us about all sorts of things, one of which was what to do if you go into labor on game day. I’m delivering at OSU hospital, its one block from the football stadium “the shoe” this kid had better not want out on game day is all I’m saying! The exits are all blocked and most of the parking is for fans and not available for patients. Nice eh? Football is the religion here but that’s a whole other post! You would be better off calling an ambulance to deal with the mess than to try on your own. We went over the whole process of what to do and where to go, they have a room called “patient nourishment center” inside, a ice machine and cups. The labor and delivery suites are awesome. Very large and dimly lit and what felt like a pretty soothing environment. As soon as we walked in I saw the baby warmer and started to get overwhelmed. There were a few times while we were in that room that I started to well up with excitement rather than nerves like at the birthing class. The post-par. rooms are less exciting than the L&D ones, about 1/3 the size and more like an economy hotel with an adjustable bed. We did get to stop by each of the two nurseries and one was completely empty, the other had ONE baby. I don’t remember much of what we were told at that point, I was too busy watching the sleeping burrito to hear much at all.
That was the last thing to do to get ready for this little one. No more classes, no more shopping, were done. Four weeks to go, four more weeks to eat up every hiccup, punch in the bladder, kick in the rib, four weeks to keep him safe, warm and fed just by existing. If only he knew how good he has it, he’d eat up the next four weeks too. If only he knew just how anxious we are to have him how many people already love him, maybe he’d rather come out?