Last night M and I went on our hospital tour (that would be a whole other post) and it ended early. So since we had told the babysitter we'd be home around 9:30, we had an hour for free time. Since we live in a sleepy little town and I am of course about 9 months pregnant our choices were limited, but we still had fun.

First we went to a great local ice cream parlor and shared a delicious hot fudge sundae (and just note here it was M licking the bowl not me!) and then off to the mall for coffee at Borders and a poke around there and Best Buy. Not exactly a stimulatingly romantic evening, but it was just what we needed. Time alone, no matter how short, the feeling we were playing hooky, a beautiful spring evening. Doesn't get much better :)

At least that's how I feel. I feel like it is this constant fight between me and the OB's to have this VBAC birth. This is the second appointment in a row I have left their office in tears. I wish I never started going to the midwives originally because I know how different the care can be. Today I waited for an hour before I got to see the doctor, and then I practically had to hang onto his coat tails as he was walking out the door to get all my questions in. Hello, I am 35 weeks pregnant, my baby is likely to arrive in the next 3-4 weeks and I have questions! I need answers!

Plus the nurse measured my belly, she listened to the heartbeat, what really was the point of seeing the doctor except for me to ask questions? And if he is in and out the door in 5 minutes WTF did it take an hour for him to get around to seeing me when my appointment was at 8:15 am, only 30 minutes after the office opens? It's a good thing they took my blood pressure when I first got there.

I feel misled by the midwives though as well. It was made very clear to me today that the OB's do VBACs - why this is just being made clear to me now is beyond me when it was obvious from the start I was a VBAC - why did they let me keep seeing the midwives and why did the midwives tell me differently? I did ask, but I guess I asked the wrong people. Now I feel like I wasted all those appointments when I could have been getting to know the OBs better. So now here I am with probably 3 appointments left where I can hopefully get to know 4 OBs just a little better. But it's still anybody's guess which one of them will actually be at the birth.

And the clincher came when the OB said I should probably schedule a c-section for a week after my due date just to make sure I get on the calendar. Becasue they won't induce a VBAC (I do agree with this) and they won't let me go too far past my due date - I have mixed feelings on this since the pregnancy is dated purely by ultrasound, which can be up to 2 weeks off.

But I have an amazing husband, a wonderful birth instructor and a very calming doula. Not to mention an terrifc support group of friends who are all 100 % behind me. I couldn't do this without them.

Nothing like being a cliche.

I needed ice cream tonight. Needed it. Ben and Jerry's Coffee (for a change) to be exact. So I run into the grocery store and pick some up. I don't need anything else so get into the express lane. The cashier eyes me up and says "Just the ice cream, ma'am?" with a twinkle in his eye. Yes, I am pregnant. Yes, I needed ice cream immediately and desperately. So shoot me. At least I didn't get the pickles too!

So I am sitting on the floor cross-legged and A is sitting in what used to be my lap and we are happily reading a book when the baby starts kicking. I ask A if he can feel baby brother tickling his back and A replies -

"Oh no! Baby brother kicking! He trying get out! He wants my pop-up book! No!"

No, we're not going to have any problems adjusting to and sharing with the new baby, none at all.

A show about women who lost all their children at the same time. My worst nightmare on TV. These poor women. So much loss, so much teribble loss. I need my son to wake up from his nap so I can hold him close and hug him, and kiss him, and squeeze him, and smell him....

While trying to navigate a crowded room, do not bother to suck in your stomach to squeeze between two people. One, it hurts; and two, it makes absolutely no difference. Yelling "make way for the belly" is a lot more effective.

Belly comments at the eye doctor's office today - can I go nowhere in this town and have some peace?

Dr.: So how far along are you?
Me: 33 weeks
Dr.: 7 weeks to go....are you sure it's just 7 weeks? Is it twins?

All the while oogling my belly. Very creepy. WTF is wrong with people?

I hate wearing the wrong thing. Schmoozy functions make me nervous enough and if I am not cloaked in the right armor, I feel even more self-conscious/insecure than normal. Such was the scene last night. A fancy schmancy school anniversary dinner with all alumni big-wigs at a hotel. Started at 7:30 so to me all of this implied dressy event. Given the extent of my pregnancy wardrobe right now my options were severely limited (I have outgrown all of the smalls and the mediums are getting tight!). But I managed to wiggle into some black velvet pants and a red velvet shirt open with a black tank underneath and added a black and white scarf. Oh and very nice black silk embroidered mules. Not bad I thought.

Except everyone else was in business wear.

Bah. I felt very showy. As if the belly wasn't enough to draw attention to myself! I should have known.

I think part of it is also that as a SAHM living in BFE on a grad school student budget, we just don't attend a lot of things like this anymore. I think I have forgotten how to schmooze, not that I was ever that good at it anyway, and really what do I have to say that would be of interest to a roomful of self-made millionaires and movers and shakers in the finacial world. Not a good evening for the self-esteem.

And tonight is take-two, though the dinner is actually at the school so I am thinking more casual. Just watch, it will be dressy.

Contrary to what you may have heard, New Yorkers are not rude. They are in fact very nice, kind and polite. Well, at least if you have an obnoxioulsy large basketball protruding from your mid-section.

While on a mini-vacation to New York City I received not one negative belly comment. All comments were more of the "oh, how are you feeling when are you due" variety. I was given a seat on the subway - it was by a woman, but at least not all chilvalry is dead. A man asked my 25 week pregnant friend if she was a movie star and if I was her sister. And then he offered to pray for us and our unborn children. Obviously he was a bit off, but still, not a negative comment. Many well wishes were received from random strangers.

I was, however, greeted by looks of fear and dire warnings from the Ferris Wheel staff at Toys-R-Us, that riding the ride was at my own risk, etc. Um, I rode the subway, I think I can handle a Ferris Wheel.

Overall it felt good. And I walked my pelvis off - literally. After logging easily over 60 blocks in 1 day I felt better than I had in weeks. No more feeling like the baby was splitting me in two. Though my ankles did swell up to 3x their normal size. I am sure it was just a fluke and the baby switched positions, but I may have to *gasp* make exercise part of my daily routine. We'll see how long this resolution lasts.

No, not A, me. M and I have finally bought a piece of grown-up furniture. Up until now the most expensive thing we have bought together (besides house, car and laptops) was A's crib. Sort of a sad statement. But we took some of our lovely tax return and slpurged on a heavenly, luxurious, king sized bed. It has no head or foot board, we still have the same unfinshed and then finished by me dressers, but the bed itself is truly a piece of art. Honestly, I have no idea why I am sitting on this chair at the computer when I could be lounging in my new bed.

I'll be back :)

I am thinking of adding a section in my sidebar to list the belly comment of the day. I get enough of them.

Yesterday's gems:

"I don't think I was ever as pregnant looking as you, even right before I gave birth."

"Are you sure your dates are right?"

I love the pregnant form, and still think my belly looks good, but I am seriously starting to really wonder if I am growing super-huge baby in there. Seriously, how far can my uterus actually stretch? Not to mention my other birthing parts? My current obsession - shoulder dystocia. Can.not.stop.thinking.about.it.

So, my PSA for the day. If you see a pregnant woman, don't comment on her size, her due date, etc. Just tell her she is beautiful.

I am wearing a pregnancy support belt as I am having serious difficulty walking. I am hoping it helps take some of the weight off my poor pelvis. The only times I am comfortable are when I wake up - having been off my feet for 8 hours or more - or sitting on my birth ball. I do not remember pain like this wilth A and it is seriouly impeding my ability to care for myself, my house, and most especially my son. Sadly, I am seriously wishing my support belt was more of a support garment - like a huge pregnancy girdle that would just support my thighs, my pelvis, my belly. Traction even sounds good - anything to lift this 35 pounds and growing belly of mine up!

I love when my son runs to me to give me a huge open arm hug and totally bounces off of the belly. I love when A tries to find my now disappeared belly button. I love the zerberts A gives to his "baby brother." I love the crazy summersaults and thumping movements this baby makes. I love when I lie on my side, how he pokes and pokes because he really doesn't like the mattress pressing on him.

This baby has yet to have the hiccups. A always had them and I miss that freaky feeling.

I have no linea negra line yet, and I had a very dark one by now with A. It took about a year to disappear after his birth so maybe I should be grateful. No stretch marks yet either - strange considering the size of my belly. I am sure I have just cursed myself.

There is a lot of uncertainty in our lives right now. No jobs, a new baby on the way, a move somewhere/anywhere in the U.S. in 3 short months. I'm trying not to get too dragged down by it and I was thinking of a poem I used to love back in college, one I'd always think of when I was letting fear start to take over and rule my life. The poem is called "For my Sister, Against Narrowness," by Erica Jong.

excerpt:

As long as you are at it,
die wide.
Follow your belly to the green pasture.
Lie down in the sun's dapple.
Life is not as dangerous
as mother said.
It is more dangerous,
more wide.

Life needs to be enjoyed and truly lived, there are enough daily reminders of how precious and fleeting life really is. So I am going to embrace this uncertainty, enjoy it. Because really, how often are you sort of floating out there, wondering which direction your life will take, who you will become, where you will live. It's scary, but somewhat exciting. It makes me feel 18 again, rather than 31. Well, except for the 2-kid thing :)