Things have been quiet around here. There are dust bunnies hiding between my sidebar ads. I think a tumbleweed just blew across my header and over my extremely out of date headshot.
People, I. AM. TIRED. And overwhelmed, and I’m running up against a deadline that is coming faster than that asteroid that Aerosmith had to shoot rockets at to save the earth while Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler made out… or something like that. The 90s were a long time ago.
I’m 1 day shy of 37 weeks pregnant with what I intend to be my LAST pregnancy. The next 3 weeks will feel like they crawl by and cease to exist all at the same time. I’ll blink, and a 3rd baby will be in my arms while my midwife stitches up whatever tears down there (which, btw, could be a giant vaginal cyst that could possibly rupture while I’m pushing… WHEEEE SO MUCH TMI AND HORRIFIC IMAGES FOR YOU!).
In the last 2 weeks, I’ve had to switch to a new midwife and a new hospital because my midwife was forced to resign. It’s not really my place to give more details than that. Just know that the decision left me angry and uncomfortable with the situation I was left with. So I got out of there. I was proactive, and at 36 weeks, I found a new practice.
In the meantime, Scott traveled nearly non-stop over the last month in an effort to pack everything in before baby comes. And the kids weren’t in summer school for a good portion of that.
My inbox is sitting at 482, and about 250 of those actually deserve/are expecting actual responses from me. Not just crappy spam pitches that I can delete.
I sit at my desk for 45 minutes, and I’m ready to go curl up in my recliner (yes, I got one!) and take a nap because the sitting upright is hard.
I intended to “enjoy” this pregnancy, to really soak it in. If this is my last, I know that I’ll, strangely, miss this when the misery is behind me. I’ll miss the sweet moments that I still manage to enjoy now. I’ll miss the freedom of walking around with my belly falling out of my pants. I’ll miss the little baby kicks. I’ll miss the great skin and hair.
I just can’t figure out HOW, at this point, to savor this. HOW am I supposed to “enjoy” this? I feel terribly pressured to document it in some way, to really do something that I’ll be glad I did 3 years from now when I am a little sad that I won’t experience it anymore.
BUT WHAT IS THAT? And how do I manage to do that in the next 3 weeks while still managing to catch up with work and take care of the 2 kids I already have? Serious question.Powered by Sidelines