Today I am 37 weeks and 1 day pregnant. Here - I have the pictures to prove it...
This pregnancy has been very different from the last in many ways, although I'm not sure how much of it has to do with my memory being distorted over time. I never wrote much about my first pregnancy, and I don't think I took a single mirror picture. I'm not sure why. I'm sure there's some sort of psychological reason.
Probably because I gained a lot more weight, was trying to figure out how to mother a brand new toddler, and was pretty much just shell-shocked.
I was also under the delusion that the baby could come at any time after 36 weeks.
I had this idea that after week 36 I was just waiting for it to happen...which does happen for some people.
Just not for this person.
Liam came at exactly 41 weeks - shortly after I went to the Midwife at 40+4 and she told me that nothing was happening "down there". I cried...because I thought I was miserable. The large African American nursing student gave me a big hug, held me tight, and called me "honey". I went home and took a shot of castor oil - something my sister-in-law had claimed worked for her.
It worked alright.
I had strong early-labor contractions for 48 hours before the midwife - who I had called so often she was about to change her number - finally agreed that I needed to come in because it was just taking too long to progress.
Even then he wasn't too keen on coming out.
It was a total precursor to his personality.
But this one has been really different. This little person is fierce. I think he or she has been trying to get out of there since day one. At least it feels that way. I've read in a million places that movement should really slow down in these last few weeks. I'm still waiting for that to happen. Someone should tell the baby.
A gymnast. I think I have a gymnast - or a stunt devil - or a dancer on my hands.
This time I actually have the braxton hicks that everyone speaks of. I think they are induced by the back flips being performed in there at 11:00 at night. This time my body is yelling at me to slow down. This time I'm telling myself that I have 4.5 weeks until I meet this little person, which allows me enough time to not freak out, but also extra time so I'm not disappointed if he or she decides to take their sweet time.
I'm trying to embrace this pregnancy thing, because I think it will be my last. I don't want to regret wishing it away.
We'll see if I feel the same way in 4 weeks.