Week thirty-three

Grooooaaaaan.

Okay, I can officially say I have enjoyed being pregnant, but I am ready to not be pregnant anymore. My body is big and clumsy and unwieldy and the simple act of getting around is not unlike pushing an overloaded grocery cart with a wonky wheel. Wearing clothes is a real pain in the ass but I feel way too huge to walk around naked very much, and the sight of my stretch marks makes me very whiny. I am so tired, so sleepy. I miss sex that doesn’t involve having to handle what amounts to a large beach ball in front of me at all times. I would like to return to a less constant, less expensive eating pattern. I am excited about being able to sit up without first filing a requisition and then getting on a waiting list while my body hulks and cracks and groans itself into a 90-degree angle. I am tired of my love affair with Tums. I would relish the chance to go a single hour without peeing. I would like my bones and ligaments to be free of the extra pressure pulling them in all directions but mostly toward the couch. I miss wine. Etc.

Oh man, this is so gross, but I have to share. I woke up in the middle of the night and barfed immediately into the bedside garbage can. Turns out that ol’ throat sphincter had damn near opened up completely during the night and leaked acid into my throat, choking me. I puked a mouthful and then tried to clear my throat and drink some water but it burned so bad. I kept trying to clear my throat or swallow or something just to get the acid out of my mouth and throat, but it took one more good retch and then several minutes of calmly sipping water before I felt okay enough to lie back down without thinking my body was going to kill me in my sleep.

Thanks, Relaxin!

Of course in the grand scheme of things, these small complaints are nothing and I sort of feel guilty for even writing them down. Yes, some days I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck (as my friend Amanda put it), but I’ve had a remarkably easy go of it physically, and it’s really not all that bad most of the time. It’s just dull aches and exhaustion around the clock but it’ll pass and it’ll be worth it.

Mostly, I’m ready to meet this kiddo. It feels like we have been waiting so long. The other day I likened this part of pregnancy to waiting on an impending houseguest to get here, but he’s taking the scenic drive across the country and can’t quite say when he’ll arrive. I just know he’s coming and I’ve gotten started preparing his room. But I’m not sure when he’ll actually get here and there’s no guarantee he’ll call ahead because he’s just so darn spontaneous. Also I’ve never met him but I’ve heard he’s going to be somewhat demanding and kiiiiiind of an attention whore. But we’ll see.

I want to know the little person who lives inside me, whose personality has already started stitching itself together. I want to get started learning his quirks and preferences and sense of humor so we can be BFFs for the fleeting years he will actually allow such a thing. I want to see his gummy grin and feel his little fingers curl around mine. I want to finally call him by his name around someone other than Ray. I want to introduce him to my family and friends.

This week the darling offspring has the heft of a pineapple. His lungs are nearing the point where they will be fully developed enough to breathe air like a real live human being! His eyes are open and blinking and are blue! He’s nearly cooked enough in there to be able to survive without many complications were he to make his exit a bit early. Not that I’m wanting that at all. It’s just a relief to know.

I’m feeling practically no frantic nesting urges lately. I have no desire to clean anything, really, despite all the things needing to be cleaned. I am, however, riding a creative wave that’s got me designing things like a madwoman. So, you know, I’ll take it when I can get it.