In the last update, I bragged on myself.
“I’m doing so good with hydration that I don’t swell!” Na-na-na-na-na.
I also speak too soon and stick my foot in my mouth sometimes. Look at these “sausages,” as my husband endearingly calls them…
So here we are: the home stretch.
We had a little uncertainty for a brief period, in which my regular 4 week check up resulted in measurements 4cm larger than they should have been. In the words of my OB, I had “barely squeaked by” on my glucose testing, so no gestational diabetes to cause size issues for baby. However, here we were at double the normal range of what would be considered normal uterine measurements for how far along I am. Is the baby too big? Will I have to have a c-section? Will this cause problems? What does this mean for the remainder of pregnancy since the last weeks are spent fattening baby up? We had to wait for an extra ultrasound to find out. To our relief, our little man was perfect. He is expected to be a chunky newborn, but not estimated to be big enough to have negative effects on delivery. Whew! Now to just wait for nature to runs its course.
We’ve got another month and a half, roundabout. I’ve got baby feet and knees constantly in my ribs, punches and jabs directly to my spine, and a regular wave rolling across my belly at the slightest little baby movement. My meals have been cut in half, but occur double time throughout the day because there is no room for an expanded stomach in this gut anymore but I’m hungry all the time. My balance is terrible, I’m constantly knocking things over with my belly, and my hands have essentially stopped working. I drop every single thing I touch at this point. The Braxton-Hicks contractions are growing in intensity and frequency, I have to prop my belly up on pillows to be able to lay down comfortably, and the only successful way I can get out of bed is to roll myself to the edge and just let gravity slide me out until my feet can catch the floor because all movement is just getting extra difficult. I don’t even want to try to explain the hassle of putting on pants or – god help me – socks.
Silver lining:
We already know he’s got dad’s nose and mom’s mouth and squishy cheeks and I’m in love. This little face is the only silver lining I need anymore.