I wouldn't say I hate my lady parts...

...but, we are not on the best of terms right now.

I had my 39 week doctor's appointment today and man, talk about a downer. I went in and nothing, and I mean NOTHING is happening DOWN THERE. In my LADY BITS. Well, I mean, you know, my INTERNAL lady bits. My SPECIAL PLACE. Am I being too gentle in my description for you to get the point? Let me elaborate:

MY CERVIX IS NOT DILATING. MY UTERUS IS NOT DOING ANYTHING TO HELP MY BABY GET OUT MY HOO HOO. I AM GOING TO BE PREGNANT FOREVER.

Even my doctor was all, "Girl, this is a second baby, what is going on here?" and I'm all, "I don't know, could this be punishment for watching porn that ONE TIME just because I was CURIOUS? Is that, like, a thing?? Porn punishment through never-ending pregnancy?!" (Apparently, no, that is not medically "a thing" so, you know, whew. Dodged that bullet)

I started to get kind of irrational upset, but then I remembered that during my last pregnancy, I wrote a post about how lazy my cervix was being. Which kind of made me feel better because I still had Kate on my due date, and if I remembered correctly, my body wasn't doing tons to eject her before I went into labor either. So I rushed on home, looked up my post and BAM. Felt horrible again because OMG that post was from SEVENTEEN DAYS before Kate was born. And, to make matters WORSE, I may have felt that not much was going on down there towards the end of my last pregnancy, but at least it was giving off a "we're going to have this baby sometime this year" vibe. Whereas today, my special place is all, "I COULD start working to get this baby out, but I am le tired. I'll take a nap and think about starting the whole process tomorrow. MAYBE. Yawn."

I'm about to take my special place out and beat it to death.

There's an app for that

I'm getting so close I can taste it. Oh, wait, nope, that is heart burn and indigestion I can taste, but still... the birth of baby E2 is extremely close. As in, less than TWO WEEKS AWAY. Plus or minus a few days because I have two different due dates.

My official, doctor identified due date is August 17. You know, the one based on the vague question of when my last period started or ended or whatever it is they ask when you come in. My REAL due date is August 14.

By "real" due date, I mean the one my iPhone app has identified. And yes, there is an iPhone app that is quite handy for getting knocked up and tracking your pregnancy (actually, there are several) and we have one. Actually, I blame the app on my husband, who likes anything techie and thought it would be funny to have one and see how well it worked back when we were thinking about having a second baby. Trust me, it worked so well I'm having my baby in the middle of the hottest summer on record, instead of having my baby in the middle of fall like I had hoped (apparently, when you use software based on proven science instead of just boinking a lot, you conceive quicker. WHO KNEW?)

So, no offense to my wonderful doctor, but I trust my iPhone app just a little bit more when it comes to knowing my due date. And, while I know due dates aren't exactly written in stone, Kate was born exactly on her due date, so heck if I'm not focusing on the 14th being the end-all-be-all of this pregnancy. So hurray for having a baby in ten days. TEN.

YOU HEAR THAT BABY BOY? GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE.

Week 35

Well, its official. I'm pregnant. Yeah, I may have mentioned that once or twice in the last 35 weeks. But I think it is finally hitting home with me what that means. Mainly that I have to once again get something the size of a bowling ball out my hoo-ha. Which frankly, no matter how many women do it, just sounds impossible.

But impossible or not, this little dude is coming pretty soon and Ben, Kate and I are really stoked. Not just to meet our new addition, but also so mommy's hormones go back to normal and I can quit having mental breakdowns on a regular basis.

And yes, my family CAN tell I'm a little off. Yesterday after dinner, Ben gave Kate a chocolate mint. When she finished she asked for another one and we told her there weren't any more. She asked me specifically for MY mint, and I told her I didn't get one and that I was so sad about it. She considered that for a moment before she asked me, "You going to cry mommy?"

Ben snorted and told me he was fairly certain she was being sarcastic.

But beyond a return to mental and emotional normalcy, we are all getting anxious to greet our new family member. Kate asks me regularly to see her baby brother and seems at peace (finally) with someone else's stuff in "her" nursery. She kisses my tummy and knows that she will get to see E2 in a month. Ben and I sit in bed in the evenings when he is most active and watch my stomach roll as he does what I can only assume is some form of advanced baby calisthenics. And we dream about meeting him.

Only five more weeks. And then we'll be a family of four.

HOLY. SHIZZ.

Eviction notice

Last week, I really thought I could just not feel any more pregnant. That is why I was SO SURE I would be having the baby early. Because there was just NO WAY for my body to feel more alien and uncomfortable.

Ha.

This week, I've both RUN MY HUSBAND out of the bedroom with my buzz saw like snoring and FALLEN ON MY FACE in public when bending to pick something up. Both equally feminine and graceful, and I just keep thinking that "It just CAN'T get any better than this" (heavy on the sarcasm there). However, if I say that out loud, I'm fairly certain that next thing you know I'll have hemorrhoids and backne and just have to head slap myself for foolishly tempting the fates to deal me a few more hormone induced insults before Baby E makes her appearance. So I'm staying mum and just thanking my lucky stars that at the VERY LONGEST I'm only going to be pregnant for three more weeks before my doctor evicts her from my uterus.

Week 35: The weight debate

Having a debilitating cold has its pros and cons. I believe I may have beaten you over the head with the cons last week, so how about today we start with the pros.

I had my week 35 appointment today, and (drum roll please) I LOST four pounds since my last visit!! I nearly wept with joy when I heard that, and once the nurse left the exam room, Ben and I high-fived and did a little victory dance that I'm pretty sure looked more like the African Anteater dance from "Can't Buy Me Love" (awkward and unattractive) but it still felt pretty darn good.

When my doctor came in to chat, I again mentioned how excited I was that I lost weight. She looked at my chart, made a few notations and looked at me and smiled, and then said "Yes, that is good. Now you are at a perfect weight. Try not to loose any more weight, but don't gain any either. Try to stay just about where you are."

I think my eyeballs may have popped out of my head while she was looking back down at the chart. I wanted to say "Sorry sister, but this isn't exactly a precise science, what with the baby gaining about half a pound a week, and me facing down cravings like a fighter pilot facing enemy crafts and my body retaining water like a camel before a long trek. I mean, sheesh lady." But instead, I shook my head in eager agreement and looked innocent. I then went for lunch and had two biscuits slathered with honey for my reward, followed by an enormous dinner with ice cream for dessert. Yep, I'm going to get back to watching what I eat, but damn if that little day of indulgence didn't make me happy, and the four or five Tums I had to take down to atone for it didn't even taste all that chalky.

33 weeks and growing

As promised (a week or so ago) here is the latest belly photo. As you can see, I'm the size of a small air ship and no surprise but my doctor just about fell out of her chair when she saw how much weight I had gained over the last three weeks. Apparently, I'm some kind of super-human eating machine. Neat.

When I tried to explain that I normally have my appointments first thing in the morning before breakfast, and today my appointment fell just after lunch so that might add to the total weight gain, she just looked at me and asked if my lunch salad had possibly weighed 10 pounds.

Touche.

I acted so baffled by the weight gain, she took pity on me and shared with me how I might THINK I'm eating healthy, but really not. As in, I might eat a WHOLE banana, but really, because of the sugar content, I should limit myself to HALF a banana each time I sit down to eat one. I should drink skim milk, and cut juice out of my diet.

At this point, I realize that if those are her suggestions, I probably AM responsible for my weight gain and should just own up to it. Nope, sorry doc, its not those late night apple juice cravings or sneaking one whole banana at a time that is doing this to me. Its more the cookies, brownies, cakes and doughnuts that are turning me into a female Jabba the Hut.

I mean, last week when Ben was in class, I had a Cinnabon for dinner for God's sake. A CINNABON.

As punishment, I'm forcing myself to go to yoga tonight, and then I'm going to eat something miserable, like a Lean Cuisine. And then I'm going to cry myself to sleep.

Third trimester blahs

So I'm feeling it... the third trimester blahs. It isn't the bone crunching sleepiness or the "if I smell one more person wearing perfume I'm going to lose lunch" feeling of the first trimester, but rather a slowing down of all bodily functions. My brain is becoming sluggish, I've started waddling rather than walking, and getting up and down out of anything (a chair, the car, the bathtub) has become a miracle if I can do it on the first try. I just feel big and... well... blah.

I feel so blah in fact, I'm not sure what to share with everyone. I'm fairly certain my stories of waking up in the middle of the night because Baby E is performing Riverdance on my bladder is the sort of thing you tune in to read about. Or the fact that 9 p.m. is getting to be my GOAL for how late I stay awake on a week night, or that I have to stare at documents I'm reviewing for a good 30 minutes before being able to take action and I'm fairly certain I'm forgetting something for at least one of my four clients, but I'm just NOT ABLE TO REMEMBER WHAT THAT IS.

I think (from what I've heard/read) that this is fairly typical, but then I have this weird feeling that I shouldn't be feeling this way just yet -- that if I'm this tired and fuzzy headed now, in about a month I should probably have my drivers license taken away and when the baby is due a month after THAT I may just be barely functioning.

Last night I had a dream about Baby E. I dreamt that the birth was really easy and I had TWO baby BOYS (so much wrong with this dream already -- right?) But the thing was, when I had the babies, the nurse told me that they had gotten it all wrong, that they were actually a month overdue because I was much further in my pregnancy than they thought. My interpretation of this dream is that I'm worried about another two full months of pregnancy and my subconscious is telling me to suck it up. My subconscious is great at giving pep-talks.

I also owe everyone a third trimester photo, so I'm making a promise that I'll try to get one taken and posted this week. If I don't, I'll post a cute picture of our dogs so you get distracted and don't remember I haven't posted a photo of myself. Tricky, eh?