thoughts at thirty

Ten more weeks to go. Ten weeks seems like a mere minute when compared to the eternity that is the first thirty. It's like I know I can survive now because it's so close, the worst is over. Now I just need to fatten up my baby (and my face, let's be honest - it's going to start retaining water like a giant swimming pool) and keep up the nesting (it's in high mode folks) and suddenly - WOOSH - my water will break in the middle of church, and a baby will be born.

Hopefully not at church though. Awkkkwarrrd.

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My sister-in-law told us a second-hand story (from another sister-in-law) about this girl whose water broke so they jumped in the car, but the car was coasting on fumes, quite literally, all the way to the hospital. By the time she got there, she was already crowning and ended up giving birth in front of the hospital Starbuck's. We laughed and laughed about this, but really I could be that girl. Would it be awkward if I asked for a iced hot chocolate immediately after giving birth? I mean, it's right there. 

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My biggest worry is how Annabelle will fare while I'm at the hospital. The girl is spoiled and has never had a night or full day without her mommy. Even when I had surgery and thought we'd get a trial run, my prayers were answered and I only had to spend a few hours in the hospital before I could rush home to her, Lortab in my system. Of course, I'm not worried that she won't be cared for. She will be. She'll be spoiled rotten in all likelihood. I just hope she doesn't think I've abandoned her. Oh, how I'll miss her. I already do. Even though I know I'll be loving on a new baby, I'll be aching for the big one.

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I had my 29(ish) week check up, and everything is looking great. So much better than the first pregnancy, in fact. Weight, blood pressure, sciatic nerve, overall general health - it's like light years different than the first pregnancy. As much as this diet has challenged my will to survive (it's really hard to face a day knowing I can't eat chocolate), I will be the first to admit that it has affected my health in all the best ways. It actually makes me want to maintain the diet (for the most part, with the addition of some chocolate, Diet Dr Pepper, and an occasional cupcake). I always thought that being pregnant meant uncontrollable weight gain, that losing control of your body was just part of the deal. Little did I realize how much control I could still have, all while being healthy and growing a healthy baby. I don't only feel healthy; I feel strong. I've learned that I have more self-discipline and self-control than I thought possible. I feel like I've conquered a part of myself, and I'd be lying if I didn't say there was some pride going on here.

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I might as well grow some wings and a beak because the nesting is in full swing. This is mostly because Jess and I stopped fighting the answers that were in front of our faces, and we signed another six month lease at our apartment. (House hunting is on hold while we first get ready for Baby Dos and then enjoy our new little babe.) Suddenly I have an overwhelming desire to decorate and clean and organize. This may not be my baby's permanent home, but it is the one that he or she will come home to. And it's my goal to make it feel just that: like home. Cue me roping my mom into an Ikea trip and massive cleaning and organizing projects. I'm having so much fun and it only makes me more anxious to meet my baby. P.S. Sorry Baby - like your sister, you won't technically have a room. You'll share space with all of us, but I'm pretty sure you won't mind given the fact that by the time we move, you'll have just discovered your toes.

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It's mid May, which is kind of blowing my mind. I feel like I spent the first months of the year with my eyes and mind shut, just willing the time to pass and float away on a sea of nausea. And suddenly it did. Suddenly it will be June. June is going to be a wonderful month because the next month is the month for a baby. It was two years ago, and it will be this year.

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In the above photos, Annabelle is holding the onesie she came home from the hospital in. No really. She did. Here's proof:

In the first place, it's a little incredible to believe that Annabelle was ever that small. And then it's hard to imagine having another baby that small. I remember after Annabelle was born that as big as my stomach got, it was still amazing to hold such a tiny little person. I know it will be all over again.

So here's to thirty weeks and the relative ease of staring down the final ten.