My dearest firstborn,
Know that I discipline you because I love you. I did not want to spank you today, and by doing so smack my own belly, but when you are disobedient, I have no choice.
We wanted a simple picture of your face today to make sure you were developing as expected. You didn't allow us to do this 7 weeks ago, but we attributed that to your lack of desire to move to a pathetic apartment. Today, you have no excuse. You were simply being stubborn.
A 25 week, 4 day ultrasound should not take 2 hours. You did not want to face the "camera," and instead hid your sweet face with BOTH hands AND a foot. When the expert tech used her "fool proof" method of getting babes to move by putting the buzzer on my belly, you still didn't budge. She said even she was going to have a choice nickname for you that she couldn't share with us. Now we have to have more ultrasounds in 4 and 8 weeks. This was the first time you embarrassed your parents, but I know it will not be your last.
So, since the tech couldn't get you to move, I had to spank your tiny hind-quarters. This didn't seem to bother you, either. This will have to change once you begin to breathe something other than amniotic fluid.
All I can say is, you are truly a product of your parents. You are just as stubborn as your mother and you stay snuggled in a comfy position just like your father. I can't wait for the next 18 years.
Today I spent a lot of time thinking at work. Obviously I'm a CRNP and I think constantly because it's part of the job, but I mean I was thinking about different things in between patients.
First of all, I was thinking about the things I had to get done this weekend . . . return a shirt, breakfast date with Huck, viewing a few potential rental properties, laundry, dusting, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, baking cookies, watching the PSU homecoming football game, taming the mutt, deciding which church to check out this Sunday, visiting with the parents in Lancaster for my birthday, etc. etc. These are all good things and I oddly look forward to them.
I will be 27 years old on Sunday. I'm not old, and this is not a whoa-is-me kind of a birthday, but a different one. This will be the last birthday I have before I become a mother. At this time next year, I will have 9-month old babe to care for. This is the best thing ever, but it also made me think of how all the aforementioned things on my "to-do" list are going to be a lot more challenging.
I will no longer be able to run and do whatever on my own time. Instead, my new to-do list will be as follows:
1) feed Peanut (and throw in a load of laundry)
2) burp Peanut (and wash dishes)
3) change Peanut (then make supper)
4) console Peanut (and tackle the mutt)
5) teach Peanut (and try to spend time with Huck)
That's going to be the best to-do list. Ever.
At our last OBGYN appointment on October 5, we found at that I am actually a little farther along in this pregnancy than originally thought . . . a whole three days! Three days isn't significant to some, but as I gradually become more and more swollen, it makes a world of a difference to me.
At that appointment, I was 23 weeks and 3 days pregnant. So, as of yesterday, I was 24 weeks pregnant, or 6 months pregnant. I have recently heard many controversies about this timing from males and those without children. "Well if you're 6 months NOW, that means that at 40 weeks, you will be 10 months pregnant, not 9!" Yes, that's true--10 LUNAR months pregnant. Ask any pregnant woman or woman that has had a child within the past 30 years or more. It's 40 weeks or TEN months.
I do find myself telling people that I'm six months pregnant now--it's so much easier for them to "visualize" than telling them I'm "24 weeks, 1 day." What does THAT mean to them?
While I'm happy to be farther along than originally thought, all this realization of me being six months pregnant (already!) is terrifying to me. We sadly still live in a dump of an apartment where the maintenance staff doesn't seem to care that our outlets don't work and that our toilet doesn't work. We still haven't sold our home, though it's looking like it may be leased soon. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that this may very well be Peanut's first "home". If that's the case, that also means that there will be no family coming to help for the first few weeks, as is customary--we have no room to house them.
What's more terrifying is that we really have nothing for Peanut. We have a crib, but no mattress or sheets. We don't have diapers or bottles. We don't have a car seat or a strolled. I also haven't had any showers yet, but all this makes me worry--what if Peanut decides to grace us with his/her presence SUPER early, and we still have nothing? I know we won't be entirely prepared to be parents (who REALLY is??), but I was at least hoping to have a real place to live and real necessities for the little booger.
It's fun being sixth months or 24 weeks, 1 day pregnant. I think I need to stop thinking . . .
