I tried to come up with a cute little title for this blog, buy my Braxton Hicks are killing my concentration. Usually, I only have maybe one or two at night. This is the first time I’ve had to deal with them at work and these are probably the most uncomfortable contractions so far. We are getting closer, peeps. Seven weeks to go and counting. Judging by my other two births it’s probably more like eight and a half or nine weeks, but some stupid little voice in my head the other day told me “I bet you’re going to be early”.
NO, it was not my friend The Doppleganger…although she actually did say the same thing to me later that day, which means I’m totally jinxed now…but as she pointed out, she also thought Gummy was a boy. I’m probably safe.
This stupid little voice I’m referring to was Pregnancy Paranoia. During my pregnancy with Little Man I was 19 and didn’t work, so my paranoia made me time every single practice contraction my body was having, scared that I was going into labor. Maybe it was paranoia mixed with inexperience mixed with anxiety. Anyhoo, 2 weeks after my due date, my doctor finally decided that my 9 lb 2 oz baby just wasn’t going to come on his own and I was induced. Mini Me was also late, despite me planning ahead and going on my maternity leave a week before my due date so I could make sure I was ready. I was scheduled to be induced, but my water broke the day before I was set to go into the hospital.
We just have to wait it out, which I think totally sucks. But this is coming from a control freak who likes to plan things. I did decide not to start my maternity leave early this time. Unless my doctor says otherwise, I’m working up until the baby comes. I think I may be crazy. I also think that if my due date comes and the baby is not here yet, I may just decide not to come in to work. I just came up with that lovely idea. I already can’t stand sitting at my desk all day…I know the closer to 40 weeks I get, the more miserable I’ll become. We’re still trying to sort out the maternity leave situation anyway, being that I work for a small company where FMLA doesn’t apply and I have no short-term disability that will pay me while I’m gone. More on that another time, I’m sure.
The baby shower is this weekend and I’m so completely excited. Sailor Girl* has done a spectacular job putting the whole shindig together. Parties aren’t really thrown in my honor very often, so it’s nice that she is taking time out of her busy schedule to do this for me. I didn’t have a baby shower with Little Man and, no offense to my very best high school friend, I barely remember the one I had with Mini Me. I wasn’t in a very good place then and I hardly had any friends in both instances to have a really memorable shower experience.
I’m so afraid of flaky people not showing up, though. Las Vegas is not like Georgia. People go about their own lives without any regard for others – very publicly and in your face, here. Back home, fifty people are invited to a party and all of them show up, including the ones that hate you. Why? Because we are bred with manners and etiquette. Southern girls will kiss and hug you, tell you how excited for you they are, bring the most spectacular gift, then talk shit about you quietly at the next bbq you aren’t invited to. So, we act like we have manners…same thing. It’s better than being openly shitty to others. Anyway, I’m confident that the real friends that I have will come Saturday and we’ll have a fabulous time.
*sidenote: Going back and reading a post that I wrote over a year and a half ago is surreal.
Looking at myself writing about relationship drama and boy toys, while now I’m married and
planning the birth of my third child is insane. In a very good way.
I’m so happy to start going through Gummy’s clothes, washing them, and putting them away. Mike bought a bathing suit for her last night. It’s the cutest thing ever. And tiny.
We get to have our last ultrasound on Wednesday. I can’t wait to find out how big she’s gotten and have that last picture to look at until she comes. I have a feeling she’s going to be huge like her brother.
We’ve also come to a bit of a dilemma on Gummy’s middle name. We had one all picked out. A very traditional girl name to go with her not-so-traditional first name (but not so weird that she’ll hate us later). Then, in true Mike fashion, he came up with a very creative bad-ass middle name that makes her sound like either a super hero or a 1940’s private detective (I can’t decide which). So we’re stuck with trying to decide between the two, now. I said we should just wait until we see her, then decide. I’m still leaning toward sweet and girly. We’ve got to keep her feminine, y’all. With 3 older brothers and a rough and tumble older sister and a dad that wants her to know all things Star Trek, I’ve got my work cut out for me.