Pregnancy Journal: Week thirty-three, getting ready


So, now I ask again, does this qualify as “nesting”? I think not! Under more normal circumstances I’d have sterilized the garage right away. Only my fear of harming the baby held me back. Somehow those around me assume that because it’s nearly the end of pregnancy that it should be termed nesting. I still stick to my theory that the only true nesting occurs when trying to prepare a suitable nursery and that most of that effort is directed at passing time, rather than satisfying some animal instinct.

Now that my mental state is terribly obvious, I should mention my physical well being. As of this writing, I’ve certainly been better. I don’t mean this as a complaint. In fact, I’m rather excited by the prospect as it is a sign that the end is near. Braxton-Hicks contractions have been knocking me to pieces in recent days. What began as a gentle tightening a couple times a day has now become an inexplicable sensation that occurs frequently and without warning. I’m not at all worried that this is a sign of preterm labor as they’re not painful, regular, accompanied by any sort of bleeding, etc. I must say that I was shocked to remember what it felt like. These wonderfully annoying practice contractions started only about three weeks out when I was carrying Jacob. Here I am seven weeks away from my due date and I think I’m reaching the end of my rope. I wish I could explain what it feels like. It’s not painful, yet it’s uncomfortable. Nauseating, yet not like the nausea that occurred for the first months of pregnancy. Basically I feel like every organ in my mid-section other than my uterus is being squeezed gently into my throat. This would not be a problem except that it occurs spontaneously and seemingly always at the worst possible moment.


While I’m not concerned about the baby coming too early, I have decided that this means the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. With this realization comes a wave of anxiety as it’s also occurred to me that life as we know it will soon come to an abrupt halt and we’ll be faced with the challenge of re-constructing our days around the needs of two wonderful little people. As excited as I am for that day to arrive I also suddenly realized that this means that Rob and I will need to work doubly hard to find time together. This has been non-existent for several weeks already. My solution? Begin with a “final” date. We’ve made plans for a last hooray before the baby arrives. Not big plans mind you, but plans for a few hours alone together. My parents have agreed to watch Jacob for an evening while we take in dinner and a movie. So, in two weeks we’ll pack a bag, head to their house, drop off our little darling and hit to town for a bit. I don’t know about Rob, but I’m truly excited to be able to spend some time alone together. Surely, spending the night at family’s house it won’t be the intimate, romantic night I’d like to plan, but just being able to talk over a quiet dinner without having to watch our conversation in front of little ears will be an intimate enough starting place. Now what do you want to bet we spend the whole night talking about the kids?

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