Let’s Obsess

Hey, friends!  Here I am at 32 weeks and change:

 

Still exercising, religiously.  Still not making any difference in how big I get.

 

 

Do you know how many pairs of pants I have that still fit?  TWO.  And one of them is white, which makes everything I eat a potential mess.  Oh, look!  I brought beet salad for lunch!

 

I have a doctor’s appointment today, at which I will report that I have TOTALLY SLOWED DOWN in the last two weeks.  Two weeks ago, I stopped running.  My abdominal muscles have given up on trying to hold this belly up during bouncing activities like running and my uterus thinks that any amount of cardio is license to contract.  Contractions are uncomfortable, you know?  I’ve also started sneaking in a nap whenever I can because, come 2 o’clock, I can barely keep my eyes open.

 

I’m so thankful I have a job that is flexible and children who love preschool so that I can sleep in the middle of the day like a goddamn lazy asshole.

 

Also this week?  Or maybe next?  I will crest 200 pounds.  I keep hoping that the weight gain will slow down along with the rest of me, but no such luck.

 

The bottom line is that pregnancy just isn’t as much fun this time around.  My boys take up all my available energy, and as I’ve said before, I’m an anticipator.  I love planning and imagining and preparing for what’s to come.  In short, I love obsessing.  And it would appear that the only thing I have to obsess about this time around is my size.

 

The baby’s name was decided long ago.  Turns out that Tony and I often agree with each other (good for a marriage), and Charles and Jamie even approved their new brother’s name (not that it would matter if they didn’t – these are two boys who think fart jokes are funny, reading-level-2 Superman comics are great literature, and ‘fruit snacks’ is a major food group.  Their taste is questionable, is what I’m saying).There are lots of things that I CAN’T do before baby arrives: adjusting the crib, finishing the bathroom remodel, fixing the fence – and a whole lot of things that I haven’t done yet because by the time I put the boys to bed, I just don’t have the energy and my swollen feet demand to be put up: washing and adjusting all the cloth diapers, washing all the newborn clothes, getting out the pump and the sterilizer and the baby toys.

 

All of these things were fun and exciting the first time around, and heartwarming the second time (“Oh!  Do you remember this onesie?  I can hardly believe Charles was ever so small!”).  Now, these are merely more tasks to stuff into my days, in addition to finding time to schedule photo sessions (I did maternity photos with the other boys, I don’t want our new mister to feel slighted), planning Jamie’s birthday party, and preparing for leave at work.  I can’t even justify a baby-item shopping spree; we have almost everything we need.

 

It would appear that all I have to anticipate has taken on a negative cast in my mind.  While my parents and brother go to Seattle to see Book of Mormom, I’ll be nursing a newborn.  While Tony and the boys go on several treasure hunt hikes, I’ll be up all night nursing a newborn.  While my family and friends go camping, I’ll be a crying mess of surging hormones, up all night nursing a newborn. 

 

And maybe that’s the big problem here: I’ve been through this all before.  I know how hard it is.  I know how tired I’m going to be and how terrible I’m going to look and feel.  I remember loving my newborn boys, but somehow, I can’t seem to get to the point of anticipating this new little one’s soft hair and skin, scrunched face, and sweet, milky breath yet.  Where did my optimism go? 

 

Help me, internet.  Help me find a way to anticipate the good things about my new son, instead of focusing on the difficulties that will come no matter what.