39 weeks...one week to go

BHR is 39 weeks, one week away from term. He's still building fat layers (as am I) to help control his body temperature after birth, and it's likely that he measures around 20 inches and weighs a bit over 7 lbs, which is like a mini watermelon. They also say that boys tend to be heavier than girls, but I think right now, I weigh more than everybody:)

We went to the hospital yesterday to do some fetal monitoring. I had noticed a decrease in BHR's fetal movement and called the doctor. I guess when you are this far along they send you straight to labor and delivery. I remained surprisingly calm considering the last time I was told to go to the hospital when I was a bit of a crying mess. They monitored me and baby for about 40 minutes and made sure everything was okay before releasing us. The doctor's and the nurses keep saying "well, your at 39 weeks, so we aren't going to stop labor." I want to say "who asked you to stop anything? Is there anyway you could start something?" Cheese and rice people, nothing has started yet, so let's not jinx it by making these statements about "stopping"... I knew BHR wasn't actually coming yet, but part of me was hoping that he would sense the hospital and just decide to get it over with. He didn't.

Other than that I've just been anxiously waiting ... nothing else seems very important these days, just BHR. Not knowing when to expect him; not knowing what feelings are normal or not normal, has been hard. Wondering if he's kicked me enough or if my water is going to break or tear and if it's a tear have I missed it and if I've missed it am I hurting BHR ... I'm assuming I'll know these things when they happen, but I don't like leaving things to chance. I like planning, I like knowing...

I've been trying to get on a good hair-washing schedule (every 2-3 days) so that BHR can meet me with at least relatively clean, straight hair and possibly even painted nails...I always perform better with straight, clean hair. My worst marathon experience ever, I remember deciding the night before that I didn't need to wash my hair. I was going on day 3 or 4 and figured that it didn't matter because after you run a marathon your hair gets so disgusting anyway, who's going to notice? Apparently the running gods noticed, because that was an awful marathoning experience and part of me wonders if it would have been different had I washed and straightened my hair? I guess I'll never know ...

For those of you that don't know this, washing my hair is one of my least favorite things in the world! Remember when I talked about the girls with the perfect straight hair, the kind that would swish from side-to-side when they would walk, the girls that can "get up and go"? Yeah, that's not me. I have to wash my hair, then I have to blow it dry, then I have to flatten it, then I have to worry about whether or not there is any bit of moisture outside that is going to F it up...it's a process and it takes strategic planning.

Ideally, this is what I would like to happen so that I can plan accordingly ... I want to walk into the doctor's office and have them say "okay, now we are going to go to the hospital. BHR will arrive in approximately 7-9 hours. You will push for this long and this is what's going to happen and then we will hand you your healthy baby boy." I'm not completely dellusional, I like to think of myself as hopeful. I know this isn't actually going to happen, but wouldn't it be nice?

I haven't really be in the mood for chit chat or seeing people. It's not because I dislike people or anything like that. I can't explain it really ... I've always been a home body, but lately I really just like doing things that require as little effort as possible. I read that it's normal, but after this experience, I definitely don't trust "everything" that I read because there are things about pregnancy that no one tells you, and that no one can explain even if they tried.

I was thinking this morning about what I'm going to miss ... I think I'll miss being with BHR all the time. Knowing he's there and feeling him move around. It's nice to be able to provide a space for someone that's safe and comforting. Supposedly it's really warm in there, and that could be nice for someone, right?

The list of things I'm not going to miss is probably a little too long ... but who knows, maybe one day I'll look back and think "ya' know, I really miss those cankles" or I'll think "remember when my boobs were super huge and unattractive and didn't fit into 'pretty' bras and tried to smother me when I slept? Those were the days."

I have no idea what I'm really going to miss until it's over and I think that's the sad part about pregnancy ending ... however, I'm thinking that once BHR is here, I won't mind everything else. They say that after a while you forget everything, you forget the pains of pregnancy and labor and that's how women are able to keep having babies; so much time goes by that you forget that you ripped your "lady downstairs" from head to toe and you look at your baby and think, "I want another one" and that's how it starts again.

I'm ready to meet him, and I'm sure I'll be able to create another list of things that no one can ever fully explain about being a parent and my cankles won't seem so bad. Stay tuned ... BHR could be here any moment, but let's just hope it happens on a "clean hair" day or at least within the 3-day window.