As I type this, Mouse is in the crib, inspecting it thoroughly — poking at the breastfeeding pillow and stuffed animals, and even running around a little bit within its confines. She still doesn’t seem to sense the imminent arrival of another small being in the house, but she does seem to understand that our attentions have been decidedly elsewhere lately.
On Jan. 31 our friends Sara and Tara threw us a very sweet shower. There was much good food, laughter, mingling about, and gifts. Devin’s dad took this photo of us, showing off some of the baby clothes Victor gave us. I think I was laughing almost to the point of tears by this point, but I can’t remember why.
We came home and inventoried everything, mostly so I could take good notes on who gave us what so that when we send thank-you cards, we thank the right people for the right things. Devin piled most of the items on the rug in the baby’s room. Within minutes Mouse was rolling around in the clothes like they’d been spiked with catnip. She also crawled into the co-sleeper. There is no way we’re going to have a cat-hair-free household when the baby arrives, so it’s good we’re not even trying.
Last Saturday we took the co-sleeper on a test drive to see how it felt to have it in the bed without a wiggly, grunty baby in it. We both slept reasonably OK, although predictably it made the bed seem smaller. Smaller for me because I have a hard enough time turning over in bed these days without having limited space; smaller for Devin because Mouse slept behind his knees, pinning him into a very tiny area. We’re pretty sure she’ll keep sleeping with us when the baby comes, so we might as well get used to it.
Yesterday, Monday, I hit the 37-week mark, a major milestone in the sense that a baby born anytime between now and 42 weeks is no longer “pre-term.” (After 42 weeks is “post-term.”) It also means that if I go into labor now, the midwives are OK with me delivering at home — labor before 37 weeks would have meant an automatic hospital birth.
I’m not having any signs of imminent labor — in fact, my Braxton Hicks contractions have actually eased off this week, maybe because I am on leave, more relaxed and off my feet more. That said, three women in our prenatal/birth groups have already had their babies — one at 37 weeks, one at 38 weeks and one at 39 weeks. It’s hard not to imagine that ours could come early, too.
My last day of work was Thursday, and I’ve been pretty busy since then, doing at least a few baby-related or birth-prep (or both) items each day, trying to get myself and our house prepared. My to-do list has included everything from “buy coffee for the midwives” to “meet with anaesthesiologist.” I’ve done a mind-numbing amount of laundry, and that’s just the beginning. We finished our birth class last night and scheduled our “reunion” in May, presumably by which time we’ll all have babies.
All that said, I still can’t get over the strangeness of imagining that one day soon — and we don’t know when — my body will kick off the inevitable beginnings of birthing this baby into the world. Waiting — and yet trying not to wait — is a very strange headspace.
It’ll sink in at some point, right?
– Beth
