I am in a very weird state right now.
I am in no way ready to have a newborn here. I am not ready for the disruption in my kid's life, not ready for the demands on my time and so utterly, totally completely not ready for the sleep deprivation.
And yet, I am so done with this pregnancy. Despite my best efforts, I have put on 50 pounds again. And while I know I will lose it like last time, I also know that those first two months will be hellish as I look at the Grimace-like nightmare that my body will morph into once the baby is out. I'd like to say I have the wisdom and depth to transcend that, but I know myself better than that. It is going to be rough.
I will never understand why my body feels the need to puff up so dramatically while other women can gain the recommended 25-35 pounds with ease. On the other hand, I lost every last pound of it within nine months (minus the few I would have liked to lose before I got pregger). I have to believe this is just my body's way of being pregnant.
I got through all the maintenance appointments I needed--the highlights, the haircut, the pedicure, the massage--all the things I will not be able to do for the first six months of this kid's life. Now it is just a waiting game.
Sometimes I think the end of pregnancy is so dramatically annoying so that the mother is willing to alter her life in any way just to get her body back. I am just about there. As hard as I know this will be, I am so done with pregnancy.
The most frustrating part is not knowing. This baby's window is anytime between July 12 and Aug 16. So R and I get to spend more than a month wondering when it is going to happen. Everytime I have a contraction, I wonder.
I have started to lose my mucus plug (the plug that protects the cervix and the baby from infection) which some people say is a sign that labor is imminent. Of course, I already knew that. And "imminent" could mean anything from one hour to three weeks. Great. It is hard to believe that something so huge can happen at any time. That one day I could have just one baby and the next I could have two.
I am handling all of this really well. Though I have plenty of other things I could focus on, instead I tap my feet, think every twinge is labor and think almost incessantly about whether I am ready or not.
Limbo, your time has ended. I need answers, dammit.