Less than two weeks to Christmas… less than five weeks until I’m due.
My 35-week appointment was on 12/9 and the midwife informed me that Bubs is head down and doing fine. I’m gaining about 1/2 a pound per week and am measuring right where I need to be. I gained 10 lbs. in the first trimester and then slowed down. I think I’m sitting at about 168 lbs. right now (I was about 145 when we got pregnant). I don’t know what they mean when they say that babies slow down movement towards the end of a pregnancy because they run out of room… this kid is still so active, it’s hilarious.
And I’m still having very odd dreams… last night I dreamed that I was cleaning the Osbourne’s house. Which is especially odd, considering that I do not watch that show. I just walked around picking stuff up for hours on end, stepping over little dogs and doing load after load of laundry. And the worst part? I wasn’t getting paid!
We finally got our crib. I’d like to find a glider to match, but the only one I’ve found that I like is over $400 for the glider and ottoman — and frankly, I’m just not into the idea of spending that much money. Granted, we can use the glider as a piece of living room furniture once the baby gets older, providing that it’s still in decent shape. The glider doesn’t really match the crib, though — it’s too dark — and I’m not willing to pay so much money for something that isn’t exactly what I want. I think we’ll check out some non-baby-oriented furniture stores to see if we can find something better.
Got sick on Wednesday night, but it was my own fault. I ate pizza for dinner and had a glass of cranberry juice right before bed — serious acid-containing foods, to say the least. Burning esophagus woke me up at 2AM, followed by two Tums and a glass of water… and I barely made it to the bathroom in time to hurl. After cleaning up and going back to bed, and waiting an hour for the Zantac to kick in enough to make me comfortable enough to fall asleep, there was no rest for the wicked (or pregnant). Six-thirty alarm came way too early.
George and I met some friends last night at a restaurant at the end of our street (and, no, we didn’t walk, we drove. We had to walk the dog afterwards, and I tend to grumble incessantly about walking the stupid dog. George didn’t want to push his luck). They hadn’t seen us since mid-May, when we weren’t broadcasting the pregnancy yet. I received some of the nicest compliments; “You’re all baby! You look wonderful! You can’t be almost 9 months, you’re so little! You have that ‘glow’ and your skin looks great!” Some people just know the right thing to say. I’d venture to say I was even bearable on our walk afterwards.
Ah, names… the subject has come up frequently the past few months, since the first question always asked is, “Do you know what you’re having?” followed immediately by, “Have you picked out names?” I’m finding it funny how many people get a little irritated when we tell them “It’s a surprise” and “Not yet.” Most people start suggesting names… usually men suggest their own names and women suggest either their children’s names or names they liked that their husbands didn’t. Last night, one of the guys (named John) suggested, “‘John’ is a good, strong name you know.” I smiled at him and said, “Oh, but I can’t *stand* that name!” He looked a little shocked at first, but realized I was joking. (Since my Grandfather, Dad and two half-brothers are all named John, I’m used to hearing it).
George just called me — it took him a half-hour to put the crib together, from start to finish. I decided I’m going to wash the bug linens tonight and put them in the crib, just to see how they look… The more we get done, the closer I think we are to some semblance of ‘prepared.’