With just a month to go, I don't have much to complain about. Perhaps my only legitimate complaint is that I don't have any fun cravings stories. I really wanted a crazy craving story. During the first trimester, I mostly just ate a crap-ton of stuff I already liked. The first day when I knew I was pregnant, it was either hormones or the power of suggestion, but I ate an entire loaf of bread. At one go. To be fair, it was a delicious cinnamon loaf my in-laws had brought from Harvest Bread Co. And during the first 6 weeks, about once a week I would furiously desire a burger and fries, launching some fun trips to Culvers. I guess that's a craving story after all...just not an exciting one. Oh, and during that time I didn't want tea. That was weird.
I could complain about being tired/grumpy/sad for the first 6 weeks, but considering I was still able to teach without any students noticing or asking, "What's up with this chick?" it wasn't too bad. I just came home after class and watched Seinfeld for six hours straight.
And I only have one or two stories of unsolicited/weird baby advice. I've seen more people on the other extreme of not wanting to say ANYthing offensive, which is funny in itself. "Oh, you're breastfeeding? Good for you. I only did it for a few months, but for YOU that's awesome. I didn't mess with cloth diapers, but that's great you're trying it. Not that there's anything wrong with doing cloth. To each her own. Do your thing. You're going to let your baby cry for hours on end and only feed him twice a day? Um...that could be risky, but don't let ME tell you what to do. Wait, um, you're going to leave him alone in a bathtub next to a plugged-in hairdryer and recently opened package of razors? I...uh...maybe not the best...idea...but, um, don't let me tell you what to do...er..."
Obviously, the last four sentences are jokes and I love that most everyone is thoughtful in not forcing their opinions. Although, it's totally fair to disagree on stuff, so no one should be afraid to defend an opinion in the right setting. Like, if we're talking about baby stuff and diapers come up, tell me all about how you did diapers. That's cool. But if I just met you and am talking to someone ELSE about breastfeeding, I don't need to know about your granddaughter whose baby developed a lactose allergy, causing the granddaughter to stop drinking milk for nine months. Not that it's terrible information to know about...just a weird situation to bring it up.
Sure, some of the jokes get old, but I don't mind much. I like my big belly and I'm sure I say the same jokes to other pregnant women without realizing it. I could do without the stretchmarks, but also don't mind those much. It wasn't worth it to me to buy fancy lotions to try to prevent them. Besides, when there are weeks when I'm POSITIVE this little baby grows five feet, I don't see how any lotion can prevent stretchmarks. And how often does anyone SEE them anyway? I rarely go swimming and Ryan doesn't care. It's beautiful and sad at the same time how I care 100 times more about how I look than Ryan ever will.
Me: "Waaaaaa, I gained two pounds this week!"
Ryan: "Good job."
That's pretty much his response every time I whine on the scale and I love him for it. I'm not even that worried about my weight, but still want the validation every week or so that I'm not fat, just pregnant. I'm trying to stop commenting at all on my weight, though, because it's stupid. How many people have commented that I don't look like I'm 8 months along? So, I can't even blame media/society because it is SO clear how supportive people are of pregnant women and their changing bodies. Well, ok, I can at least partly blame companies like Target for hiring nursing bra models who clearly have not just had children. Oh, really, Target? I'm going to have a flat, six-pack stomach within the first year? Good to know.
So, in efforts to actually stop commenting on my weight, I'll shut up about it now. I'm done. See? I'm not talking about it anymore. Yay me!
However, I will talk about the body changing I like. I love my belly. It's creepy how big it gets, but I love it. Also, I never actually minded being small-chested before, but the extra two cup sizes are a fun change. I even like the pre-contractions. I can say that because they don't hurt much yet. They're just proof that the baby will be here soon!
The closer the due date comes, the more I feel ready, which is a nice change. Historically, anything I can't control sent me into panic/anxiety mode and for perhaps the first time in my life, I'm welcoming the changes. Sure, I already miss the freedom of taking off wherever and whenever I like, having Ryan all to myself, sleeping whenever I want, etc. But I'm so freaking ready to have this little baby curl up and fall asleep on my chest, preferably with a mop of curly hair. I wish we could have an ultrasound to see if he has hair or not, but it's fun to have that be a surprise at his birth.
I'm even excited about labor. There, I said it. I hesitate to say it because of the inevitable flood of comments like, "Come to me and say that in four weeks," or "We'll see if that's true when you're in hour eight of labor." Whatever, I know it's welcoming the haters, but I really AM excited about birth. It's like life's ultimate challenge and I want to see how I do with it.
Will it hurt like hell? Uh, duh. Will I want it to end before it's even close to over? Obviously. Is it terrifying because there's no way to know if everything will go smoothly? Do I worry that the baby or I will be hurt? Wouldn't it suck if I have to have a C-section and can't even try to do it naturally? Yes, yes, and again yes.
But I'm still excited about giving birth. Because of the years and years of anxiety over things I can't control, I welcome this excitement. It's not like I'm at the end of my seat, but there's a warm feeling of peace and anticipation. I'll take it.
