catastrophy: (oroooooo)
[personal profile] catastrophy
and then listens to her almost 40 week pregnant friend bemoan her own cervix's stubborn refusal to dilate and then feels like she should just STFU. Cus everytime I look at her, I'm all like "you've swallowed a planet!" and also, "dear god, no 9 lb babies for me, tnx"

I've been off work for a week, and if I can survive the pregnancy, it's the monotony of the next 3 weeks home alone that will get me. Seriously, I can't go to the library and Starbucks *everyday*. But, like, I have *dreams* about working. Also, fuckin' hormones. A little bit sad turns into super crash hormone tears forever and I have trouble pulling myself out of it. It would help if I felt like I could actually accomplish any of the tasks on my plate, but they are all either trivial (housework, emailing, etc) or horribly intimidating and difficult (finding nursery furniture we like, packing a hospital bag when all the clothes are the only clothes that fit).

But, we've made great progress towards a (real) name for Toodlepants! What started as a massive excel file of 400ish name combos has finally been whittled down to about 10 (fewer if you're only considering first names)!

We've been going to "healthy birth" classes for a couple weeks, and we've got one more (and Kent has a "newborn care" class). So we've gotten prepped on some basic comfort/pain management techniques and gotten the hospital tour. I meet with the nurse navigator today to get copies of hospital consent forms so husband can read them beforehand. I'll talk about a birth plan with her, and then together we'll talk to my OB next week and hopefully have a coherent plan going into the labor (so that we can throw it out when nothing goes according to plan). Yay?

If we're lucky the nursery paint will all be dry by next week (walls are basically done, but we're doing the trim this weekend) and then I can schedule steam cleaning. Then I wait for things to dry (again). THEN I can finally put furniture (assuming I've found some) and freaking put some shit away where it will actually go. (Baby laundry is slowly consuming my dresser, as it has no place to go.)

Unfortunately, most everyone is still wrapped up in work or big projects, so I can't drag people over just to keep my sanity. Kristen and Kevin are racing to finish renovating their WL house by the end of the month. Sonnenbergs are at Disneyworld all week. Anna is traveling and then sitting Lucy for KK so the house can get done. Pregnant friend, Karen, is, well, even more pregnant than me. With a toddler at home.

It's hard to try to explain to your spouse why you are both mind-numbingly bored and simultaneously completely unable to tackle the big, scary tasks. I need excuses to be up and about and simultaneously don't want to get stressed out. If I sit around and do nothing but eat and sleep the baby will get huge and I will feel miserable. If I run around everywhere I will get stressed out and feel miserable. *headdesk*

In summary, the last week has fallen into one of two categories, exemplified by the following exchanges:

Me: (curled up in corner of couch, doing laptop or reading)
Baby: (kicks arm of couch)
Me: Ow! (rubs belly, baby moves offending foot)
(2 minutes later, after I've settled into "comfy" position)
Baby: (kicks laptop)
Me: Ow! (rubs belly, baby moves offending foot)
(2 minutes later, after I've settled into "comfy" position)
Baby: (stretches sideways and pokes couch with foot)
Me: Ow! Fuck it! Fine! I didn't wanna sit on the couch anyway!

Me: Husband, help me sit up?
(Husband helps haul me upright on the bed)
Baby: (remains oriented as if I were lying down)
Me: Oof! (can't breathe because of head/butt pressing into diaphragm)
Me: (tries several techniques, which all fail, to move baby into better position)
Husband: (just stares, caught between laughter and pity)
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