So tomorrow we get to 36 weeks. The day after that we get to the gestational milestone of the Bright Spark 36+1. We're entering new territory here, the final weeks of pregnancy which I missed out on with my first born and I'm not sure what to expect.
So far my pregnancy has been relatively comfortable. I've gained about 12 kilos, about the same as my first pregnancy, a good amount of weight as I'm usually slim and have trouble putting on weight (yeah I know what a great problem to have). I lost all my extra weight after the Bright Spark was born within twelve months, so even though I was a little self conscious about going from size 10 jeans to size 14 the first time, I'm a little more confident that I will once again fit back into my old pants in a year or so.
One thing that I have found very tedious is people telling me how small my bump is. My bump is just the right size. It fits my correct size for gestational age baby in, with his head wedged firmly in my hips and his bum and feet up under my ribs, very similar to his brother at this stage. My bump gets in the way when squeezing through tight spaces, kneeling to play with the Bright Spark on the floor and sitting up to meals. It forms a convenient shelf for a cup or plate. I'm sure when people tell me my bump is small they mean that as a empty comment or a complement, but I'm over it. The husband has taken the other extreme. He who knows my body almost as well as I do regularly reminds me how beautifully pregnant I look. Although he is yearning for my non-pregnancy form to return (mostly so he can share a bed with me without being woken several times a night be the truck driver snore I have again developed) he reminds me that my bump is just right, sometimes by commenting how huge I look compared to the first time. It's nice to be told I'm huge by one person at least.
As for the irritable uterus, it has bounced us back and forth from the nice people at our hospital several times over the last couple of months. At 34 weeks our obstetrician declared that he no longer cared about my irritable uterus and to carry on as normal. At 34+3 we had a late night dash to the labour ward after an hour or so of crampy contractions every 6 minutes, only to see they'd stopped and having to return in the morning (on Mother's Day) to have a repeat CTG due to a non-reactive trace the night before (at least someone was sleeping). Since then things have been pretty quiet, except for the regular tightening that have been plaguing me since January. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones that has painless contractions, but they keep me on my toes as they are getting stronger as the weeks go on.
As we go into the final weeks I'm starting to wonder whether baby number 2 will come early for us. He seems quite comfortable where he is and I'd really like him to stay put until at least the end of the week so I can get out house a little tidier and more organised. The first big push on nursery preparations only happened a few days ago and has left us with boxes of stuff under our pergola awaiting sorting before it rains again. We have consolidated our library (formal lounge) and office into one room but a lot of stuff remains without a nook to live in and I've spent the day sorting little things into little places. Apart from the fact this has given me chance to reminisce as I open forgotten boxes of treasures (I found the box of wedding things including the delicious menu from our reception) it is a tedious task that can only be done when I'm without the company of my beloved first child. But headway has been made today as I rediscovered the computer desk and cleared an arm chair of clutter. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get a few more shelves sorted and plan an Ikea trip for more storage boxes.
I'm not sure whether this is nesting as I'm always trying to remove clutter, but it is quite cathartic to be able to get on with it this time. With the Bright Spark I worked up until the day I was put on bed rest and then went into labour before I came off it. I didn't get to sort and nest and found it so frustrating. My husband tells as wonderful story about how he told me to pack the hospital bag the day before I went into labour. He'd been kicked out of the house for some downtime and my Mum came to help me and keep me company. The last thing he said as he left was "get your Mum to help your pack your bag". I got my Mum to tidy the laundry that had been driving me nuts for days. The bag didn't get packed. Early the next morning my waters broke and we had a mad scramble to pack the bag between contractions and calls to the hospital. The whole ten days I was in hospital with our little preemy the husband was bringing in not quite the right things.
This time the bag is packed (I've been living out of it for a couple of weeks) and the laundry has been tidied and reorganised (some weeks ago). It would be nice to get the house organised but as I learnt from the Bright Spark, babies will arrive when they're ready, so we'll just have to wait and see. Oh for a crystal ball.
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