So Close: Our Son's Arrival Is Right Around The Corner

Do NOT Google "mucous plus" unless you really want to see it. Nightmarish.

Oh, by the way, you DON'T want to see it. Even if you ARE pregnant.

So today I am 37 weeks along and my man is either the size of swiss chard or a really round watermelon, depend on who you ask. I'm guessing the comparison to swiss chard has to do with his length and the watermelon with his overall size ("Monster melon"). Either way, he's as tasty as ever.

I'm definitely starting to loosen up, ligament-wise. I've got the waddle going on but I was told that it's cute. I'm not leaking any breast milk, my feet and ankles aren't swollen, I'm still painting my own toenails (they're Slate this week)...but I AM contracting at really odd intervals. Last night, they were 2 hours and 48 minutes, 3 hours 24 minutes, 1 hour and 26 minutes, and 18 minutes apart...followed by nothing because I fell asleep. The previous day, they were 1 hour 29 minutes, 5 minutes, 41 minutes, and 3 hours 11 minutes apart. So we're all over the map in the contraction department.

Oh! My man is awake! And he has the hiccups. He ALWAYS has the hiccups.

At this moment, he's shedding all that weird vernix and lanugo shtuff and swallowing amniotic fluid. My nephews recently inquired what a shot of amniotic fluid might taste like. That was enough to make me want to throw up in my mouth. Basically, he's good to go and could come out at any time but the longer he cooks, the better. The only thing still developing really is the lungs. They're maturing and something called "surfactant" is being secreted. I guess that keeps the lungs from sticking together when he begins to breathe. I find that fascinating.

I find the fact that the lungs COULD stick together horrific!

I have 8 work days left until maternity leave. I'd be lying if I said I'm not starting to get nervous. I am. Not about being a parent or being responsible for raising a human being. I've gotten over that. I'm nervous about the dogs. I'm nervous about the house not being as clean as I want it. I'm nervous about my maternity-leave replacement being properly trained. I'm nervous about money (although it is so nice to know a paycheck is coming every week while I'm off). I'm nervous about things going well during delivery. I'm nervous that he might not be healthy or there will be some other complication. And yeah, I'm nervous about the pain and my ability to remain tough.

I'm sure every mother has these worries but they're all hitting me like a ton of bricks and keeping me up at night...though my bladder and a baby that never seems to sleep help with that one. I'm taking everything day by day. Actually, I'm taking things hour by hour because I never know for certain how I'm going to feel. I'm doing the best I can. This much I know.

Internally Boxed: Being Abused and Entertained From the Inside Out

OUCH!

My man...my tiny, precious, little man that depends on me for sustenance, protection, and love...is BOXING MY GUTS nine ways from Sunday! Last night was like nothing he and I have ever experienced during our time together. For about 12 hours straight (no exaggeration), he twisted and turned and stretched and kicked and punched and rumbled and karate-chopped his mama's insides! He wants OUT! He's done! And honestly, I'm done, too. My internals can't take much more of this beat down. Half a day of internal attacks is a long time. And believe me, I love my little ninja. But going from a steady stream of movement to a full-tilt boogie, roller-disco, demolition derby in my uterus is exhausting.

I didn't get any sleep last night due to the beat down so I'm struggling this morning. I love being pregnant. In fact, I was telling Todd how much I'll miss the bump when it's gone, to which he replied, "We'll make another one". But I'm ready for Spencer to come on out into the world. I can make it another 5 weeks...I'm tough enough...but it would be nice to just have him be here. I made him from scratch. I want him in my arms. And I want my ribs to remain intact!  Pals have begun placing their bets as to when he'll arrive.  The winner gets the bottom shelf liquor of their choice delivered by me, dressed as a saucy cartoon character.

And my maternity leave begins 1 month from today (or sooner if there's a jailbreak).

12 weeks of the Spence Monster and me. Not bad. Not bad at all.