Big Fat Done

Big.

 

Fat.

 

Done.

 

 

 

Describes my habitus and overall mental state here at 37 weeks, officially full term.  I haven't chronicled very much about it because this pregnancy has not been without its anxieties (to be detailed later), but also because it's just been much more difficult than the first time around -- probably 80% chasing a toddler, 10% the heat, and 10% not staying as fit as I would have liked. Luke has been working even more than usual and I'd grown used to sharing more of the childcare with him, egalitarian millennials that we are -- I'm feeling particularly worn out these days.

 

Grouse grouse grouse. I am now working half days on my OB's advice which is GREAT because I feel exhausted, sitting in an office chair is killing my back, and an afternoon nap (while C is still at daycare) or reading in bed with my legs up are about the greatest luxury I can imagine at the moment. A glance at the mini-crib set up beside the bed reminds me that while this time is uncomfortable, it is swiftly drawing to a close.

 

With C's birth I spent a lot of time wondering about the delivery itself -- what would it be like? Fast? Slow? Just how painful? Walking the hospital corridors for hours? Now I am preoccupied with the timing of labor, getting family into town, and calling in the troops (thanks Doris!) to watch Clem while we go to the hospital.  Poor Baby 2... not even born yet and I am still thinking more about the older child.

 

That's where we are now -- first name chosen, middle name candidates lined up, mini-crib/newborn diapers pre-positioned. Tonight/tomorrow I will pack a bag for the hospital (overdue -- as you can see there is much deep-seated complacency and denial at play here).

 

I remember my mom saying a long time ago that at some point 'you just want your body back' and in light of this happening prenatally, Baby 2's shot at more than a month or two of breastfeeding is diminishing rapidly (sorry, 2). My lists of the things I want to do or return to, when I examine them, are an expression of wanting both my body and my time back -- perhaps a drawback to having children later in life, when one is accustomed to one's own schedule and can remember the delicious freedom of no responsibility for the care of another.

 

These things, starting with the very doable, include:

 

An on-the-rocks margarita from Urban Taco and a frozen prickly pear margarita from La Gloria

 

Lie on my stomach

Myriad other body stuff that I won't describe here but just know normal is better than pregnant, mmm k? 

 

The 3 mile run/yoga class/milkshakes-at-Olmos-Bharmacy combo event held by Alamo 180 the third Thursday of each month. (This would take a week of planning and $40 for the babysitter -- and so I can run? Sometimes I don't even recognize myself.)

 

Ceramics class at Sunin Studio

 

Reading the very long Goldfinch and The Novel: A Biography

 

Learning the basic photography skills I mention at least every fourth blog post

 

And then of course is the light-speed-approaching What Happens After the Air Force, a life-event looming so large sometimes I can't see the edges of it and I lose sight of it completely.

 

Again, grouse grouse grouse. I have the same amount of time as everyone else, a full time job like most people, and a more supportive spouse than most women have. I am so lucky but at the moment, so tired... through all this diversionary and escapist thinking, and the fatigue, and the worry, I am so excited to get this little girl earthside and meet her! In the meantime, we stock up on frozen food... and wait.