Feb

3

The night before

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Your Baby’s Development at Week 39 of Pregnancy: You may notice that your baby is not moving around very much — he or she is in cramped quarters at this point!

Well, part of that statement is a big old no-shitter, but apparently Smalltopus has not been doing his Required BabyCenter.com Reading, or maybe he’s gotten wind of this whole cutting-into-the-belly-with-sharp-objects business that’s supposed to happen tomorrow and he figures his best bet for a safe exit is to simply mosh-pit his way out of there. I have grave concerns about this child’s ability to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, based solely on his fetal activity level, which I would describe as “excruciatingly energetic”.

I am having a very hard time wrapping my head around the fact that this baby is going to be on the outside of my body tomorrow. I mean, I am more than ready to make good on his eviction notice because DUDE, human beings just shouldn’t get this pregnant, we should eject the babies when they’re about the size of a grapefruit and then keep them in fur-lined pouches or some such thing, but I can hardly believe that I’m going to meet my youngest son in a matter of hours, and that he will have a tiny little face that I will be able to look at.

Will he look just like Riley did? Or completely different? What if he looks like Trogdor — coupla beefy arms, consummate Vs? What if the ultrasound tech got her anatomy screwed up and STP is actually a girl, which would be fine, except the whole coming-home outfit would be ALL WRONG.

I am awash in anticipation. Also: fear. Also: chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

We go to the hospital tomorrow at 6 AM, and I’ll need to spend a few hours on some medication (NOT magnesium, thank god) before going into surgery. My guess is that they will stash us in some room where JB and I will languish for the entire morning until someone remembers we exist and whisks me into the OR. During that time, I imagine I will be oscillating between a full-body freakout and mind-numbing boredom, so I’m hoping you might indulge me with some bloggy entertainment.

I know lots of you have already sent your good wishes and I sure appreciate that. Here’s what I’m thinking: if you’re up for it and you read this in time, will you hit the comments box sometime between now and Monday afternoon and tell me a little bit about yourself? I’ll be able to read your comments from my phone, and it seems like a fun, distracting thing to do while cooling my jets in a depressing hospital room.

I have a little questionnaire in mind:

1. Your name (you can stay anonymous if you like)
2. Your age (you can lie about this if you like)
3. Your life in a nutshell: who you live with, what you do for work (category includes raising children and going to school, obvs.)
4. How long have you been reading this blog, and what keeps you coming back?

Oh, I know, I know. That last question is so lame, sorry. What can I say, I’d love to know your answers.

At some point tomorrow I think one of us should be able to update this site with some baby stats, otherwise check in with my Flickr page. Will there be at least one crappy newborn photo taken with a cameraphone? You bet.

All right, friends. I’ll see you on the flip side.

Feb

1

Status quo: maintained

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Oh hi there, it’s ME AGAIN, just doing the blog equivalent of blathering nervously out loud while I drum my fingers, chew my bottom lip, and that annoying sound from 24 plays in my head: tink . . . tink . . .

I thought there was a good chance I’d get ushered over to Labor & Delivery today, since they had me scheduled for another blood pressure test at 10 AM and hey, you know one thing that I bet sends people’s blood pressure skyrocketing, it’s knowing that the results of the test could send you straight to the operating room, but no, everything was totally fine. Whew, I guess. Except truthfully I was sort of hoping we might just get the ball rolling instead of waiting all weekend and getting progressively more FREAKED THE HELL OUT.

I have now packed my hospital bag twice, so by Monday I should have this whole routine down cold and will have have strategized the right amount of stuff to bring. Camera battery: yes; two different kinds of perfume: no.

A nurse presented me with some sort of hardcore antibacterial soap and instructed me to wash from the neck down on both Sunday night and Monday morning, then she paused, perhaps assessing my intellect and finding it lacking, and told me not to use it in my hair (duh) or inside my lady parts (no KIDDING, really? Because I was planning to really have a go at myself with a turkey baster and maybe a Magic Eraser). She also reminded me not to shave my own belly, an activity which I had not considered but once she mentioned it I instantly started wondering who would need to do so and just how thick and luxurious their belly-pelt might be.

Aside from any last-minute labor shenanigans, we’re now supposed to show up at the hospital at 6 AM on Monday, at which point we’ll probably sit around in some bleak-ass waiting room for about a thousand hours while I get progressively more despondent about that whole no eating past midnight pre-op thing. I’ll post something on Sunday about where/when you might find some baby news on Monday, stay tuned.

So tell me (DISTRACT ME), what are your plans for the weekend? Are you doing anything in particular for the Superbowl? Me, I don’t much care about the teams playing, but it seems like a fine excuse for eating a bowl of nachos the size of my head.

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