Well.
Here we are. More than 36 weeks behind us. Visiting the doctor on the weekly.
Contemplating the oft-discussed “hospital bag” and no longer sleeping, at all,
ever. It’s a magical time, really.
Here
then are a few thoughts from this, the 36 week mark.
1. Your Weight
Ah, weight
gain. The most beloved of pregnancy topics! As if everyone isn’t already aboard
the here-let-me-give-you-my-opinion-about-whether-you-are-too-large-or-too-small
train, now you have the pleasure of being weighed in weekly by a medical
professional <fist pump>.
Which
is why at 36 weeks, you may, hypothetically, pull off the incredible,
death-defying feat that is gaining two pounds in four days. Not that it, uh,
happened to me. BUT IT TOTALLY COULD.
<Curse you enormous loaf of toffee laden banana bread, washed down with a
side of MORE CARBOHYDRATES. ALWAYS MORE
CARBOYHYDRATES>.
For
the math-letes playing at home, that’s an extra 3500 calories, per pound. <Takes bow>.
2. Your Partner
Your
partner may, very suddenly, become completely overwhelmed with irrational worry
– you know, the very same kind that you’ve endured quietly and steadfastly
loudly and with great angst, for months
on end. He may toss and turn at 4 am – (don’t worry, you’ll be wide awake
because, you know, hip pain/calf cramp/heartburn/CHILDCARE)
– and, jolting upright he will turn to you and ask, slightly confused but also
DEAD SERIOUS:
When do we start brushing
the baby’s teeth?
Do we brush his gums?
FOR
THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS, I NEED TO KNOW IF WE BRUSH HIS GUUUUUUUUUMS!
Because
you are a loving partner, whose baby has literally had the hiccups for the last
17 everloving hours, you will adoringly tell him that you Googled it once and while you can’t quite remember the answer, you have seen a baby toothbrush shaped like a vibrator banana. This will soothe him
and he will peacefully fall back asleep. You, on the other hand, will never
sleep again. Not for at least 18 years. Low
end.
3. Your Cervix
Another
absolutely riveting topic of
conversation. Your cervix: it’s now being measured! At 36 weeks, you may find
out that you are exactly ONE entire centimeter dilated. Like, the size of a Cheerio! <cheers from
the crowd>.
Following
this earth shattering revelation you will swing erratically from UNPARALELLED
JOY to UTTER TERROR as you convince yourself that labor is IMMINENT. That it’s only a matter of minutes before you’re cradling
that bundle of screaming lungs and a diaper.
Until
5 minutes later when, after 30 dedicated seconds with Dr. Google, you realize,
much to your surprise and disappointment, that being 1 centimeter dilated means
absolutely nothing. Ahem. <Pulls self together, stops addressing birth
announcements>. Back to picking out nursing bras.
4. Your Brain
I told
myself I would not play into this stereotype. You know the one. Pregnancy brain. Not to be confused with post-partum-mommy-brain.
Basically, the one that renders mamas and mamas to be as shells of their former
selves; so painfully hormonal that
they cannot be trusted with basic tasks of human functioning. Need man, help me, trips over blunt object, etc.
So
fine. I’m not going there. Because despite being 36 weeks pregnant, I am still
a lawyer, writing briefs and representing clients and supervising law students
and teaching a class. And so far, by all objective measures, I kinda still have my shit together.[1]
But. BUT. I have become the patron saint of
indecision. C lovingly refers to it as my very own brand of pregnancy
psychosis. Becuase that’s not at all offensive. Here are two examples[2]:
(1) We
have now bought and returned three different rugs for the baby’s room. I still
don’t like the one we have. C says I am not allowed to talk about it. For it
makes him panic.
(2) C
spent two days painting the baby’s room with colors we painstakingly picked
out. Then I decided I didn’t like it. <C places palm to forehead, exits
room>.
So dear interwebs, what do I have to look
forward to in the magical mystery tour that is the last three and a half (or so) weeks of this
pregnancy thrill ride?[3]
