A Smattering of Stuff

First things first: let me just give a huge and appreciative shout-out to all of you lovely ladies who chimed in with your breast - er, best advice in my last post. It never fails to amaze me how passionate people are about this topic ... and how eagerly everyone was willing to help a sista out. I didn't get a single snarky "you're a bad mom because you didn't looooove breastfeeding" response, just a whole lot of fabulous and helpful info. I'm so grateful. (And PS - just because I've moved on to the next post doesn't mean the last one's closed to comments: if you've got anything to add to the discussion, please do!)

Anyway, on to today's mundane awesome installment. I figure it's a good time to blog because "Wow Wow Wubbzy" is about to come on, and my kids will be glued to the TV.



I don't know why they like that show so much, but it guarantees me 20+ minutes of uninterrupted time every afternoon. Woot!

(Note to self: purchase Wubbzy DVD.)

I had an appointment with the midwife today - and like last time, it was relaxed and informative. (Except I had to get tested for Group B strep ... which involves a giant Q-Tip going you-know-where.) I tried to prepare my midwife, Pam, before she went in.

"Under normal circumstances," I explained, "I'm one of those women who has to be perfectly groomed and hairless and pedicured and all that. But you'll have to forgive me ... because these days I can barely reach anything below my waist." (Or what used to be my waist.) That's not to say I didn't try ... I did manage to trim it up enough so she wouldn't have to go in with a machete.

While she was down there, she gave me an impromptu internal exam to check Coby's positioning. He's head-down, and has dropped quite a bit since the last visit, but I'm only dilated to about 1 cm. Rats. I was hoping she'd probe around and be all, "Oh my gosh! You're dilated to 7 - let's get you to the hospital and have this baby right now!"

He is really big, though - I'm 36 weeks and he's measuring at 39. (Does that help explain the EIGHT FRIGGIN' POUNDS I've gained in the last TWO WEEKS? I sure as hell hope so.) Anyway, due to this fact, she said the magic word that made me want to hug her: INDUCTION. Seriously, at this point if she had suggested I go in tomorrow, I would have jumped for joy. (Okay, maybe not jumped since I probably couldn't get off the ground, but you know.) Of course, due to medical protocol, I can't be induced until I reach 39 weeks. But y'all. That means that, come hell or high water, I will have this baby in THREE MORE WEEKS. And Pam wants to do an ultrasound next week to determine just how big this "little" guy is ... so maybe he'll be, like, gargantuan and we can get him out even sooner.

Squeeee! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG.

I haven't even finished arranging Coby's closet.

I haven't even bought any teeny-tiny diapers.

I haven't even made an official list of all the things I haven't even done.

After all that fun and excitement, I went to the front desk to schedule my next appointment. While I was talking to the receptionist, a lady came up behind me to wait in line. When I turned around to leave, she looked at my belly and gasped loudly. That's all - just a very audible gasp. Like my freakishness had startled her.

She's lucky I was in a good mood.