Gestational logorrhea, 37.5 weeks

Oh, hello. Yes, I am still pregnant. Yes, I am late with this week's installment of navel-gazing. I've got an excuse, and it's spelled M-O-M.

My mother cleared her normally-busy schedule to come up to visit from Monday to Saturday this week. During this time, I was supposed to relax and revel in meals cooked by her, and let her take care of Jonah in the afternoons so I could rest. She got here Monday afternoon; I think I managed to take a nap then. Monday evening we had leftovers since she'd just gotten to town and we didn't feel we could put her to work so soon. Tuesday afternoon, we took Jonah to the library after school, and he fell asleep on the way home so we made a second visit to the cafe we'd been to in the morning.

Wednesday afternoon, we went to same cafe after school, Jonah had a cookie, and then I left them to stroll around the neighborhood and visit the pet food store to say hi to the cats. On the way home, Jonah and my mom were playing hide and seek, and she stumbled on uneven pavement. I'd just taken my contact lenses out to get ready for a nap when I heard them come in and Josh say that she'd fallen down.

My mom doesn't know how to "just" fall down. Seven years ago we were traveling together in Italy. She tripped on a doormat in Padova, hurt her ankle, and by the time she came home it was a partially torn Achilles tendon. She was in a cast at our wedding, and couldn't dance.

This time, she was bleeding heavily from both hands and knees. I hauled out our first aid supplies and spent about 40 minutes cleaning her up. Then her right hand started swelling. My in-laws were due to come for dinner, so I had to make it while Josh (who was home, luckily) took Jonah to his occupational therapy session. After I'd finished prepping dinner, we went out to find a cab to take us to the ER. Hailing a cab on the street anywhere but Manhattan is a very challenging prospect, even when you aren't almost 9 months pregnant and look as though you might be thinking of delivering in a taxi. We finally found a cab, got to the ER, and once my mom had gone through triage I ducked out, since I had no idea what type of germs I might get exposed to in the waiting room. I walked home, too stubborn to try to get a cab, and half-blind because I'd never put my contacts back in. I started getting shooting pains in my pelvis after walking for ten minutes (about halfway back home).

Turned out she'd broken a bone in her hand, and it may require surgery. She came back with her arm in a cast and a sling and many bandages on her other wounds. So, Weds through Saturday were spent caring for her cuts and scrapes, helping her dress, and soothing her bruised ego. I somehow managed to get through this without offending her, even though I was so resentful to have to deal with this setback, at this particular moment.

I decided in a more lucid moment that the universe was trying to teach me a lesson, that I need to re-learn how to care for someone who is truly helpless. Not a moment too soon for that lesson, I reckon. I need to really embrace that this is what happened, though, and stop feeling bitter about the week that was. In time, I guess. Now, I am starting to realize that my mom's injury is going to keep her from helping out once the baby is here, and keep her from holding the baby as I know she'll want to, and I'm just getting sad about it all. Aside from the fact that she probably won't be able to drive or cook for a while, two things that are central to her lifestyle. What lesson exactly is she supposed to take from this?

On the baby front, things are still chugging along. This week was the first appointment where I was hooked up to the fetal heart rate monitor for a longer period of time, and the resulting tracing was very reassuring. What is not reassuring is the fact that we have done so little to prepare, we have no idea when to expect this baby, and uh, have I mentioned the lack of preparations? I'm trying to think of napping and eating as the most important things I could be doing right now.

GL update, 36w4d

Bullet points:

Things are afoot - feet are, and a head, and arms.

Last night I ate a very spicy dinner, and for a while thought it might send me over the brink. It did not. The pineapple in the fridge is beckoning (between Josh and I, we can eat a whole one), but I think it might make sense to wait until Tues night to eat it. Just in case it's not a tall old wives' tale, that it is a good labor inducer.

My pelvic floor muscles are suddenly weak, but I'm not leaking pee, so I will not complain.

We interviewed a lovely French woman to be Jonah's afternoon babysitter for a few months. She exclaimed how "mignon" he is - I could not help but agree. He further charmed her with a well-timed "bon-zhoo!"

My normally cautious kid went buck wild at a birthday party at a bouncy castle place today. Something about seeing all his little classmates having the time of their lives made him get over his fear. It made me so happy to watch him.

Off to compose a scrapbook for my mom's 70th birthday party, which was nearly 3 years ago, and it is embarrassing to me how long it has taken to finally get down to this task. Josh is out with Jonah getting some essential baby essentials from our "storage unit" in Queens. Just the mini-crib, bouncy seat, car seat, and swing. That's enough for now, baby, until you show up.

Gestational logorrhea, 36 weeks

Now the size of a Crenshaw melon. To which Josh said, "I LIKE Crenshaw melon." So I says, "You want to eat this baby?" Har har.

I'm huge. Swollen feet just starting up, though if I'm smart and stay off my feet, as I was unable to this weekend, maybe I can avoid the worst of it. But the weight gain is definitely on a par with last time, which means it's going to take at least a year for me to get serious about losing it all... Or maybe things will be different this time. Maybe I'll actually try to exercise.

Starting to freak out that we need a babysitter ASAP to get Jonah to his PT and OT appointments, neither of which are nearby so they would need to take him by bus, which will take forever. Or else use a car service and risk Jonah's life in a car without a car seat.

But one major nesting project - fixing the lighting in the apartment - is now done, after two days of three electricians, lots of dust, and somewhat difficult Jonah management to keep him out of their way. It now feels as though we've moved to a new apartment - the light makes that much of a difference.

Jonah is growing and changing so fast it's hard to believe, let alone accept. Yesterday we had a playdate with a school friend of his (whose mom I was anxious to meet because she's Italian and I wanted to practice my Italian). Unfortunately the kid from Jonah's class was in a pissy mood, not wanting to share toys, and also getting into really vicious, physical fights with his older brother, who then was so out of control he actually started hitting his mother, all in Jonah's view. Jonah was absolutely traumatized by this - he started yelling and crying. We should have left, honestly, but I didn't see how we could. When we got back to the car I sat with him for a second and explained that what we saw was very ugly, and that not all siblings get along as poorly as that. That it can be NICE to have a sibling.

Unfortunately, the residual trauma had him attempting to beat up Josh yesterday, and both of us today, at totally unexpected moments - he'd just start flailing his arms and trying to hit us. I held him very tightly and told him to get under control, and it stopped immediately. It was really scary to see how quickly exposure to bad behavior can lead to emulation of said behavior. No TV until college, young man!

Jonah had a small splinter in his hand tonight, and when I discovered it, and saw that he seemed to be recoiling in pain when we tried to touch it, I knew I had to get it out. He threw an unbelievable tantrum while I assembled my first aid stuff, and then Josh had a hell of a time restraining him, but somehow, I got that splinter out.

He stopped crying almost immediately once he had a fancy band aid, and then in the tiniest, most heartbreaking little voice, said that his teacher tomorrow would read about how brave he was in a "mitzvah note" (notes that we send to school when he's done good things). He wasn't particularly brave, I don't think... but how could I deny him that minor revision? Plus, he eventually did stop crying - which is when I started. It was such a harrowing experience, seeing him anticipate the pain I was going to cause him. He looked at me crying for a moment, face frozen in his all-purpose smile, and then did a most amazing thing - went to get me a tissue, brought it over, and asked if I was OK.

Gestational logorrhea, 35 weeks

Experimenting with a new way to post: using the kitchen timer that's set for the cookies I'm baking. I'll type half the post, turn the cookies around, then the next half.

Two weeks to full term, and we're dealing with a honeydew in size (and shape, to look at me). Movement is not quite as frequent as I imagine quarters are getting close in there. Do babies in utero ever get muscle cramps from being stuck in a certain position? God knows I've been getting foot cramps, sore butt muscles, backaches. But so far, no swollen feet. I am PRAYING for no swollen feet. Last time my legs from shins down looked like canned hams. I read somewhere that during a second pregnancy you don't retain as much water. Let this be so!

This past Sunday I was a wreck - tired, bitchy, fed up. Then, a three-hour bright spot in the day - a workshop on yoga for labor and delivery. Josh's parents came over to play with Jonah, and we got to spend the first chunk of time ever thinking only about this baby and how it's going to get out. We took the same workshop before Jonah was born, but I'm so glad we did it over as I couldn't have gleaned nearly as much from just reading a book. The poster the teacher had with a diagram of cervical dilation rendered in actual size was pretty impressive. Ten centimeters is the size of a pita, and not a mini-pita. It's about the size of a coffee can, and not a gourmet imported one. It is larger than any other orifice in the body ever could hope to be. It's how the baby will get out.

[Timer rings. Cookies spun around. Part two.]

Jonah is on a heightened state of alert - orange, possibly creeping into red. He's gotten up in the middle of the night a couple of times (though he goes back to bed easily when he realizes it's not morning), he's resisting bedtime, and this morning he freaked out quite a bit because the piano room (off the living room) is suddenly overtaken with the contents of a closet that we are trying to get organized before the weekend. He plays in that room, and all of a sudden it's not available. I know he needs to get used to disruptions like this and even more major ones, but I still feel for him. It's not for nothing that he's been asking to watch this about 12 times a day, and has internalized the story's text and recites it and asks if we're going to take his high chair for the baby. Luckily the chair he uses is one we just bought for him, and it feels good to be able to tell him that it's his chair, now and forever, and it won't ever get painted pink.

Preparing for labor I found and downloaded a couple of mp3s of writers reading pieces that mean a lot to me. I'm wondering, though, if music is going to be more important, and particularly music I can sing along to. Singing during contractions strikes me as a good way to relax my jaw, make sure I don't strain my face muscles, and possibly entertain those in the room...

Gestational logorrhea, 34 weeks

By medical standards, the baby could be here in three weeks. Well, in "3-6 weeks." I look around the apartment and see no evidence of our preparedness, except now we have two small packages of newborn diapers, donated by our neighbors downstairs whose month-old has just outgrown them. These diapers fit babies up to 10 lbs. Do you hear that, baby? You sure as hell need to weigh less than 10 lbs at birth, or we'll have nothing to put on you. (OK, am also hoping for selfish reasons you don't weigh 10 lbs when you come out.) I have an "udder cover," which is a fabric halter kind of thing I can use to cover up when I am nursing in public, but only because it was on offer for just the cost of shipping. I have two breast pumps which I never bothered to clean after I was done with them (NASTY - I am almost afraid to look at them). So much to get done in the coming weeks that I'm exhausted already.

Yesterday Jonah had a cold and a soupcon of fever, so I kept him home from school. I didn't get to shower all day. We didn't leave the house all day. But I loved it. I think I probably could have sent him to school - I've seen kids in his class who look far more like glazed donuts than he did - but I think my subconscious recognized an opportunity to spend one more day alone with him. Yes, there were annoying 5-minute spans where he freaked out about various things (wanting to leave the house, not wanting a poopy diaper changed) but on the whole, it was a great day. I wouldn't have traded it, especially since he's now gotten over his fear of sitting in a steamy bathroom to clear his congestion. Now he calls it a "steam party" and brings cars and trucks and I can actually leave him in there ALONE. If I were smarter, I would have figured out how to combine that with actually getting to take a shower...

The baby's movements across my belly are now easy to track by sight, and betray a creature of a certain size. It goes nuts for music and dancing, which is good, since we do a lot of that around here, as Jonah gets to know the finer parts of vintage jazz movies on YouTube (Louis Jordan, Dave Brubeck, Ella Fitzgerald, and SATCHMO!).

OK, it's 9:15 a.m. and I am determined not to piss this day away (except literally). Way too much to accomplish that cannot keep getting pushed back. I need to simulate a nesting instinct, since I apparently don't come by one naturally.