Yesterday afternoon, I sat in the rocking chair in our nursery brimming with new things for our baby, writing thank you notes to all of the wonderful people who came to my shower. I'd pause, look around me, and wonder who's life I was living. Certainly not my own. Someone else must own these cloud-soft blankets and tiny mittens that barely cover my thumb. When Bobby pulled them out of the gift bag and held them up for the first time, he nearly fainted. "You've got to be kidding me! These are not for real people!" I told him they were to keep baby from scratching its face. "I know that, but no one's hands are this tiny. This is ridiculous."
Of course Bobby and all his brothers were over 10 pounds (one was nearly 12!) at birth, so it's true that his hands were probably never that small. Dr. G. thinks I'll have closer to a 6.5 or maybe a small 7-pound baby - which sounds much better to me (and my vagina) than pushing out a 10-pound toddler. But still, as I fold these newborn onesies and socks and hats, I can't help gawking at just how tiny everything is. Which is scary, because to me, tiny = breakable.
My 34-week appointment today was uneventful. We talked a bit about what I should be looking out for, and Dr. G said for the next week if I have any contractions, leak fluid, or have decreased fetal movement I need to go to labor and delivery. After next week, I wait until my contractions are 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute for an hour. I should call labor and delivery when they start to give them a heads up, but after 35 weeks they don't try to stop labor. Um...yikes. I could have a baby next week. While I'm super uncomfortable and feeling like baby is totally running out of room, I'm not ready yet. Thankfully I haven't had any sort of contractions other than Braxton Hicks, and as far as I can tell, baby is still pretty content. It's head down, but not super low. My last day of work is April 3, and I was kind of counting on having a few weeks at home after that before baby comes - so let's hope it stays put for at least another 3 weeks! I did feel my first instances of "lightening crotch" last night, which I'm guessing means baby is head-butting my cervix. I'm not impressed by this new trick.
Baby kept kicking Dr. G's doppler around today, so he remarked, "Well, I'm not worried about fetal distress or decreased movement, but your kid may have a bit of an attitude problem." When I texted Bobby after my appointment to tell him this, his only response was: Boy. Of course, I texted back, Or an active, athletic girl...
We really have no idea, and Bobby had a panicked moment about it when we were in the car on Saturday. He kind of freaked out saying, "What were we thinking not finding out!? We literally have no idea if what's inside of you is a boy or a girl!"
I tried to ask why it mattered at this point...what would we really be doing differently? He didn't know, but it made him really nervous all of a sudden. Maybe because we haven't come to any sort of decision on a name. Or because he panicked that we'd have to pay for a wedding if its a girl (I promised we'd have a few years to save). Or because there's so many other uncertainties (labor, delivery, hospital stay, visitors, etc.) that he's feeling powerless - and knowing if we're coming home with a boy or a girl would help him regain some sense of control over the process. He's since calmed down, but it's sort of adorable when he gets worked up about this kid. I know it's just because he loves it so much and wants to do everything right.
Which starts with more tiny laundry tonight and putting away more itty bitty mittens.