There’s a widely known phenomenon in pregnancy known as nesting. It sometimes happens in the second trimester when you first start to get back some of the energy that eluded you in the first trimester. It also frequently happens shortly before you burst into labor. I’m not sure what causes it but it seems a majority of women do go through it. I guess it’s a throwback to the old survival days where cleaning the cave would have ensured that there were no hidden dangers before the baby arrived.

It happened to me with Hayley. In the energy burst of the second trimester I found myself cleaning things that really didn’t matter much, like the cupboards in the bathroom that no one ever sees. Then, shortly before I had Hayley, George came home to the stereotype of his pregnant wife on her hands and knees in the kitchen, scrubbing between the floor tiles with an old tooth brush. Seriously. I was mocking myself but I couldn’t make myself stop either. It’s crazy.

This time has been different. I didn’t really get a noticeable burst of energy in the second trimester, though at least I could stay up later than 10 pm and I stopped feeling like I was going to barf at any given moment. I’ve had a few small nesting urges over the past month or so. One example was when I could have gotten away with just re-stacking the towels in the linen closet but ended up pulling everything out to re-organize and clean it. Other times have been when I know that I’m tired and that I’ve done enough cleaning that I can stop for awhile but I keep wiping things down anyway.

But I guess that having a three-year-old who runs you ragged and doesn’t nap wears on the nesting urge a little. I’ve been having mental nesting instead and I’m hoping that can be a good sign too. For instance, over the past few hours I have had an overwhelming desire to do the dishes that didn’t get done yesterday since we were out all day, dust the wood furniture with actual furniture polish, clean the fish tank, clean the rat tank, do some de-cluttering in the living room, and do some laundry. Thus far I have only actually gotten the dishes washed. It’s like my body doesn’t have the energy required to keep up with my brain. If I had telekinetic powers, I would have the cleanest apartment in the world.

Let’s hope that my mental nesting means that the baby is ready to finally come out. We went to visit friends yesterday and stayed for supper where I ate spaghetti and hot sausage which I covered in a huge cloud of hot chili pepper, but it didn’t bring on labor at all – just a bit of heartburn at 2 am. Alas.

Out, out, OUT!

I had another prenatal appointment yesterday. I was 38 weeks and 6 days at the time, which is when I took this picture.

Today I hit 39 weeks. I am officially in the single digits for how many days are left until my due dates (the 20th for the ultrasound, the 21st according to my chart). So close, and yet so far. It wouldn’t be so annoying if I wasn’t constantly having contractions that get close enough and painful enough to make me hopeful, only to have them disappear. Phooey.

My new favorite google hit? Someone found me by searching for photo of the biggest pregnant belly in the whole wide world!

That’s too funny. And you know, sometimes I feel like it’s just THAT big, but I’m pretty sure it’s ot the world’s biggest, so I hope the searcher wasn’t too disappointed.

Don’t read the rest of this if you haven’t seen tonight’s “Lost” yet unless you actually want to be majorly spoiled.

Continue reading →

Last night, after Hayley went to sleep (mighty quickly too, between being under the weather and under the drowsy power of cough and cold medecine, poor monkey), I came out to the kitchen and made three tuna salad sandwiches for George’s lunch today. Because, you know, I’m a good wife that way.

There was a little too much left over to fit into any of the sandwiches but way too little to keep. There was maybe a tablespoon left in the bowl. Rather than waste it, I decided to put it on a little biscuit and eat it since I was hungry anyway. It was 9 at night. I went to bed at about 11:15.

At 4 in the morning I woke up thinking I was going to DIE from the acid reflux. That was a whole seven hours after the fact. Even now, at almost 10 in the morning I feel a little gurgly. I think I’m going to have to pop a few antacids to get it to stop.

ONE TABLESPOON of tuna. Stupid acid reflux.

I made some pumpkin cookies yesterday and they were so delicious that I think I’m going to make another batch today or tomorrow and freeze them.

I think the recipe originally came from allrecipes.com but I lost the link, so I posted the recipe itself in my kitchen blog.

New entry is up. Good night.

Several times today Hayley has asked, “Can I go to Nanny and BooBoo’s house?” (BooBoo is a long-time name she has used for her grandfather. Long story.)

Finally George called them and she got on the phone and asked if she could come over so his dad came over and picked her up. She’s going to have supper with them and play for awhile.

I told George that we must be really boring. I thought kids only thought their parents were boring when they got closer to being teenagers.

Now the big question is should I make cookies, knit, or just sit and stare out the window while enjoying the relative silence?

So last night I was watching CSI, as I usually do on a Thursday night. One part of the episode involved Grissom trying to disprove an allegation, which he did by explaining the science behind the gestation and growth of a blow fly. Without fail, the adult female blow fly lays her eggs, the eggs turn into larvae, and then they go through a growth cycle until they become adult blow flies who can then continue the cycle by laying eggs of their own. Without fail, this process takes 11 days.

I think pregnancy – the end of it, I mean, the last half of the third trimester – would be much less frustrating and wouldn’t be such an incredible effort in demonstrating patience if we were like that. If the due date wasn’t just a random crapshoot, and we knew when we were going to actually give birth, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. The unfortunate truth is that a due date is just a somewhat educated guess. Very few women give birth on their actual due date unless they have a scheduled c-section. One method tells me that I’m due on the 21st, and my ultrasound says the 20th. In reality, I could give birth before today is over, or I could find myself being induced because I’m approaching 42 weeks and nothing is happening.

I know that with 16 days left before my so-called due date, I shouldn’t be this impatient, but it’s not necessarily because I want the baby out RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS SECOND GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT (though that would be fine by me if my water exploded all over the floor right after I hit “post”). The impatience is because I can’t go to my calendar and circle any one day in red as being the real day. I have my due date written down on the calendar (and I should really add the ultrasound’s prediction too, since it’s even more optimistic being one day sooner), but it doesn’t mean anything and that drives me crazy.

It only recently occurred to me how much my calendar means to my life. Plans can sometimes change, but generally once I’ve scribbled something down on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall, that’s it. If I write down that I have an appointment on such-and-such a date, I know that’s pretty much true. If I’ve written down that a particular date is someone’s birthday, it’s the truth. And then I have this due date written down and means zip, zero, zilch.

I know this sounds like I’m whining and complaining, but I’m not, really. Once I’m 40 weeks and one day, I’ll be whining and complaining, but this is more like just getting stuff out of my head.

Too bad we aren’t like the blow flies though. It would make life much more structured.

Somehow October drifted by, even though I didn’t have that much planned, and all of a sudden Halloween is over, the stores are putting out Christmas stuff, and November is here. And that means I’ll have a baby sometime between now and the end of the month. Holy shit, when did that happen? Didn’t the stick just show two lines yesterday?

I got a little excited many hours ago when I woke up from a very deep sleep to massive cramping and contractions. They got strong enough that at one point I rolled over and got up on my hands and knees. I did some of the visualising that I’ve been practicing, and I kept one eye on the clock. I was getting them every ten minutes which is obviously not close enough to warrant throwing my toothbrush into my suitcase (which is packed with everything I need except last minute stuff), but it was close enough to keep me from falling back to sleep and to get my hopes up. Alas, by 6 am they had tapered off to more than ten minutes and then I fell asleep. Phooey.

I know some pregnant women worry because they’ve never felt a contraction and they wonder if they’re ever going to go into labor, but honestly, getting contractions and then having them stop dead is pretty annoying too. I still keep joking that I’m going to deliver the baby right on our hall floor with the EMTs on their way because I’ll end up in labor but I won’t believe it until it’s too late and a head is already sticking out.