It's Just Emotion... Taking Me Over

Dear Sprout,

We are really in the home stretch now, kid. We are 37 weeks today. You are officially the size of a watermelon. We have another ultrasound to check on your growth this week and I'm pretty sure the results will be "Your son is the size of watermelon with a cantaloupe for a head."

And then I will cry.

Speaking of crying! I am having a lot more emotionally charged days and nights. My hormones are raging out of control. I cry at the simplest of things and I often times feel like I'm struggling to keep it together. This worries me, some. I've always dealt with a little depression and I'm worried about what all of these hormones are going to do to me when you're born.

A lot of the time I feel like I'm doing this all by myself. I spend my days all alone and there really isn't anyone for me to talk to. I don't have anything to really keep me busy. I just exist here and have all these fears and worries going through my head. It gets to be a lot overwhelming at times.

Don't get me wrong. Your dad is great. Superb! Lovely! We just are on different emotional levels right now. Unless, he's great at hiding it, he's not scared at all. He can't wait. He thinks this is the coolest thing that's ever happened ever. He comes home from work and plays games and just enjoys himself. I don't want to worry him with all of my bonkers thoughts and then I do anyway when I have an emotional breakdown because the delivery place down the road won't take my coupon and I CAN'T HAVE RED VELVET CAKE.

I sit here, worried and crazy. What's going to happen to us once you're here? In two weeks, we will no longer be a couple, just the two of us. Those days will be over. From then on, we are a trio and you are a part of this family, for keeps. No more leisurely trips out of the house to do some silly thing we want to do. No more quick trips to the store or anywhere. No more going out to bars or shows without a babysitter. No more "us" as we know us now. No backsies!

Even typing this out sounds crazy because trust me when I tell you this: YOU are so incredibly important. I can't wait to have you in my life. In our lives. In all of this emotional turmoil, there has never been a moment when I wished this wasn't happening. You are the product of a lot of love. You were made out of love and you will be born into so much love, you probably won't be able to stand it.

So these last few weeks, we're just going to pretend that they never happened because I know once you are in my arms, none of this crying and emotional freak-out stuff is going to matter.

Sleeping has become a distant memory. It's physically painful to lay in bed. Rolling this belly over is a feat of strength at 3:00AM with a full bladder. Your poor dad barely sleeps better than I do. I tend to toss and turn a lot. He tends to get elbowed in the face. A lot. Getting out of bed the four, five, six, however many times I need to go to the bathroom is such an ordeal that I know he doesn't sleep through it. I bump into things and make noise. I make mooing noises when trying to get comfortable. Sometimes I just have to sit up straight because my back hurts so bad. I snore louder and more powerfully than ever before.

He doesn't complain.

And I kid you not, I love him more for the fact that he doesn't complain when I KNOW he is nearly as miserable as I am at night.

He just kisses me goodbye in the morning and reminds me that I'm sleeping on my back again.

When did I become the luckiest girl in all of the world?

I promise you, I will be the best mom I can be for you. I won't always be perfect, I won't always keep a level head. There will be times when I embarrass you or make you angry. There will be times when I just won't be enough.

But I will always be there. I will always be available. I will always listen. And most importantly of all, I will always love you to the depths of my soul.

With all of my love,
Your mama

The Things I Did to That Doughnut Would Shock Our Mothers

Dear Sprout,

Week 36 begins. At the end of this week, we will be full term. You will be fully cooked and able to make your entrance into our lives whenever you are ready.

I can't lie, little dude... I'm getting a little anxious to do this thing already. I am bored with all of the waiting. The more we have to wait, the more we want to not be waiting anymore.

I am tired all the time and my body is worn out. If I'm going to be tired and worn out, I'd rather it be because I'm spending all of my energy on taking care of you and getting to know you, not just baking you.

We want to meet you. We can't wait to know who you are. We will, OF COURSE, though I really am starting to do everything I can to make my body ready and to get you ready. I live on a yoga ball. I am taking all of my herbs.

We're having some issues with the insurance, which doesn't help my state of mind either. I won't go into it right now, but suffice it to say there were phone calls that involved both tears and expletives. I want these last weeks to be happy. HAPPY I SAY.

Since my mind is just shot right now, I am going to retell a story I wrote for some ladies on a pregnancy support board I read on occasion. Someday, when you know me, you'll understand this and you will say "Oh, yes, of course this was my mom that did this. It couldn't sound more like her."

So, your dad took me to Top Pot Doughnuts yesterday and being the horrible person that I am and having the gestational diabetes, I relish any opportunity I can to inhale sugar. (Call me selfish, but when he offers me sugar I selfishly say "OH MY GOD YES!")

I go in, order my two unreasonably large doughnuts, one blueberry filled and the other custard filled. I am being looked at and I KNOW it's because of my majestic belly that is swollen with child and I KNOW that everyone is thinking that I have earned these doughnuts. All that maternal glow and glory in one spot can make people stare, you know.

Back in the car, I start to eat my doughnuts. Everything goes pretty smoothly until I start on the custard one. Custard filled is my holy grail of doughnuts and this one was glorious. First bite and the custard is oozing out of it. Tons of yummy, forbidden custard.

Oozing all over my shirt. And my purse. And my seatbelt.

So I did what any sane woman with a serious sugar jones would do. I licked it up. Off of everything it spilled on. I suckled the custard off my shirt. I looked up and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My hair is all over the damn place because guess who didn't bother to brush it before leaving the house? I have custard and chocolate all over my face, in places I am pretty sure that doughnut couldn't possibly have reached. I have a part of my shirt in my mouth, sucking the custard like it's my life force. And I have a large zit on the middle of my nose that apparently came out last night. And I have crazy eyes. Crazy, sugar monster eyes.

Your dad looked justifiably scared and, yet, somehow, there seemed to be a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

What I won't tell you is what it did to my blood sugar that morning, because whooooaaaa baby! No more doughnuts for mama until you are out, even though you spent the whole damned day thanking me for that privilege by kicking and rolling. Which, again, come out soon please! We have some Groupons (I have a feeling that someday this will be so very dated) for some Frost Doughnuts and, oh, how I crave their banana fritter.

Someday kid, I want you to look at this picture and study your father's face and see what he feels for you. For us. There has never been a man so incredibly excited to have a child come into his life, I am almost positive of this. Every morning he tells you he loves you and every night he reads to you and rubs my tummy and gives me the happiest moment of the day.

Please disregard my "shine."

The next three weeks are going to go by so slowly. We are 100% ready for you, I think. As much as any two people can be 100% ready for the most mind-blowing, life changing, amazing experience.

We love you, Lil Baron D (which we have decided is going to be your XBOX gamertag. Or rapper name. Something.) and we cannot wait to meet you. And settle a few bets on hair color and eye color and whether or not your head is the size of a cantaloupe.

All of my love,

Your mama

Attack of the Ginormous Head

Dear Sprout,

It is your 35th week of gestation. You are about the size of a rather large cantaloupe. I can feel you getting ready. I can feel you doing just about everything, really. You are not a small thing any longer.

This week has been pretty low-key. I got to spend more time listening to you on the monitors. It's both amazingly exciting and oddly relaxing. I get to hear all of your movements and I am so happy that you are in there and doing well. The sound of your heart lulls me into a near sleep state and it feels so good.

We met with the doctor on Wednesday. She is pleased with your progress and says everything looks fantastic.

Except.

Your head.

Apparently, the circumference of your head is apparently... large. Quite large. Not some sort of genetic abnormality large or medical issue large, but having a hard time delivering large. Now, after researching (and trust me, I do a lot of it) I am aware that not all measurements are correct. Weight measurements in utero are notoriously wrong. Your head was so far down during the ultrasound that they basically had to set the exam table to where my feet were way in the air to get the ultrasound wand to your skull. They had to measure it approximately ten times before they were satisfied.

I am not putting all my eggs in your large head basket, if you know what I mean. I refused, again, to talk c-section until we gave a natural birth a shot. Again, I'm no superhero. If a c-section is what it takes to get you into this world safely, that's what we'll do, but honestly, if I can avoid major abdominal surgery, I plan on doing just that.

I ordered some herbs that are supposed to help ready me for labor. I'll start those this week and hope that it's not all hogwash and will help get my body ready for your big day on the ninth of October. Maybe they will do nothing, but maybe they will. Or maybe the act of taking them and trying to be proactive will make me mentally ready for what's about to come. Not trying to rush you by any means, but I would really like to have the induction go as smoothly as possible.

Which is what this weekend is also supposed to do. We are going to our birth classes this weekend and hopefully preparing ourselves as a couple to have this miraculous and frightening thing happen in a few weeks. I'm not entirely sure what to expect from these classes. They are at the hospital, so I'm imagining that they will not be completely crunchy, granola.

You'll find that I am a pretty shy person in general, son. So the idea of practicing breathing in front a bunch of people and making all sorts of wild animal noises is going to be a bit... mortifying. I'm willing to do it, if it will help make things easier.

Of course, this is also why your dad has been so gung-ho this week about you coming now. He really didn't want to do the classes and if you came this week, we'd have no reason to go.

Except I paid for it already. So, we were going. Regardless.

We spent last weekend doing some serious nesting. Your room is done. Fin. No more. I have washed everything that you will possibly need in the first three months. We have things put away. We have things hung on the wall. Our hospital bag is packed and in the hall and ready to go. We are ready for you, baby.

We have the other rooms mostly there. We have your sleep area set up in our room and finally, all of the clothes up and put away. That is a miracle in and of itself. Your swing is in the living room / dining room area so it's actually some place useful. Your car seat is in the car.

You'd think your due date was imminent or something.

28 days.

And I can't wait.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for joining our family. Thank you for making our little family complete.

All of my love,
Your mama

I Both Look and Feel Like I am a Watermelon Smuggler

Dear Sprout,

Week 34.

Mama's log: I feel like I have a watermelon strapped to my front side. My balance is weird. I have to lean back to walk. I have to use some sort of leverage to get off the couch. Forget sitting on the floor. My back hurts. My hips hurt. Six long weeks left. Well, five actually, since we are doing the induction.

Whoa, belly!

It's funny. If someone asks how I feel, I explain your positioning and everyone gets worried that you're about to make an entrance. If only that were the case! I feel like you're going to be the baby that takes his sweet time doing this exit thing. While you are head down and deep and putting a lot of pressure on my pelvis, I think you're comfortable and not planning on heading out anytime soon. Just making your presence known, as you are wont to do at all times. Call it mama's intuition.

Our blood sugar issues are still being worked on. It's not nearly as bad as it was, so I'm feeling pretty good about it all. Adjustments have to be made to my dosage here and there to adjust for my shifting hormones. I'm learning to be a lot less paranoid and rigid and to kind of just go with the flow, here. I'm already learning how to be your mama!

We had our ultrasound and the technician said you were measuring around five pounds and four ounces. This is a completely normal size and I am thrilled about that. You are growing right on track and that means we're doing something right. Now, I know these things are notoriously wrong, but at least they didn't come back with "He's measuring nine pounds!!!" and then they would try to take you earlier than I want. So, if this is what it means to have to skip dessert (which, come on, I do UP TO A POINT. I am only human, kid. I like ice cream.), then I will do that to make sure you are a healthy guy. (Although, it's free cupcake weekend and I am not sure I can say no.)

Of course, we still couldn't get your heart measurements. Again, they assured me that everything looks perfect and normal, they just want the measurements for record keeping. This time, rather than your arms hiding the heart pictures, you were flipped backwards, with your face towards my spine. They may schedule another one because you are so stubborn. I never thought I would say this, but... I'm getting tired of the ultrasounds.

Oh, Sprout, we are all getting SO excited to meet you. It's not much longer and preparations are being made. Your nene has her plane ticket to come be with us at the hospital and your nana is making her own travel arrangements to be here to help us greet you. It's getting so close and, yet, it feels like an eternity before I get to kiss each and every toe and finger and your forehead and nose and knees. I'm trying to keep my excitement low-key, as to not make everyone around me lose their minds with my anxiety.

But I can't wait. I can't. I have this feeling that you are going to be THE most incredible boy ever.

Maybe that's because I'm your mama. Or maybe it's just because you coming into our lives has exceeded all expectations and made us (at least me, I shouldn't speak for your father, though I think I can) complete. You made us nervous. Scared. Panicked. But you also made us whole.

We are ready to have this family all together, all on the outside, all in love with the future. Our future.

The next five weeks really (REALLY) cannot get here fast enough. Though, I guess I should, in theory, finish cleaning up the house first.

All of my love,
Your mama