35 Weeks Pregnant with #3

Well, this past week I cried. A lot.
To be more accurate, I wept…hysterically…a lot.
I was feeling particularly nauseous. And since the baby has dropped, walking has been painful --- at times unbearable. And I was feeling just completely unfit for existence.
The thought of two more weeks until I would be allowed to be done (meaning 37 weeks - to be full term) just sounded like more than I could muster up.
You would think that 2 more weeks would sound doable after having gotten 34 weeks out of the way. But it’s all relative, ya know. It kinda felt like I’d run 34 miles in the desert, and now I’ve sprained my ankle, and run out of water, and I have 2 more miles left.
So there were at least two days where I literally couldn’t stop crying. I would think I got all the tears out, and after an hour I’d have a whole new shipment show up. I thought my face may just fall off --- my skin was peeling off my nose, and my eyes were crazy sore and puffy, and the rest just felt raw.

Eventually I got out of the depths of despair. I’ve been pretty ok since. With a little bit of despondence in between.
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May I just insert here --- Not me for (I’m almost done here), but for any other moms you might meet: If you ever talk to a mom who’s going through, or gone through, a very sick or difficult pregnancy….just say, “Wow I’m so sorry.”

I’m not trying to talk down to anyone who is kind enough to read this. But I’ve just heard so many frustrating things this pregnancy I feel like it’d be worthwhile to share this stuff in case it helps another momma out.

When people try and say much else to me it so often sounds really mean and uncaring. No matter their actual intent.
If you’ve ever felt sick for a very extended amount of time you’ll know what I mean -- lot of things that are attempts to encourage, are actually horribly discouraging, and/or belittling, and/or dismissive. Instead of trying to figure it out (which is probably impossible, because the sick person probably can’t even do it), just say “I’m so sorry.” Be willing to imagine being in the pain (not past it) and how’d you’d likely just need a hug ---- Like a toddler who’s just scraped their knee -- you just pick them up and comfort them. If you aren’t comfortable giving a physical hug, give an emotional-validation “hug".

(Let’s give some serious, heavy consideration to the fact that when Jesus got to Lazarus’ tomb after Lazarus had died and Jesus saw everyone crying, he cried --- actually He wept. (Having been doing some weeping this week, I can tell you it’s a strong reaction.) It doesn’t mention him saying anything, He just felt and acknowledged the pain even though he knew it was going to be healed, changed and fixed. I personally can’t get over how wonderful that is for so many reasons.)


    If this experience of mine was an illness, not pregnancy, I know I’d get better, kinder, more considerate responses from people as a whole. (I mean the general public, not everyone who’s talked to me. I do have kind support around me as well.) But that sucks. If someone feels bad, someone feels bad. Please be kind. Please don’t belittle pain. You’d be shocked how often I get responses that imply it’s all in my head, or that can’t be that bad. Like “That’s just pregnancy for ya.” (Stated by someone who’s nausea was by the book. Or it’s said by someone who has never been pregnant -- like sometimes a man will go there. He knows?) Or some will do the same but, opposite, and basically say that’s not how pregnancy works, because that’s not what happened to that mom. (So I guess they mean I’m lying when I say I’m sick still. And... if I was lying, they are definitely overlooking the fact this “lie” is doing nothing for me -- clearly it’s not gaining me their sympathies! Why would I lie about this?)   Being looked at like you are lying when you say something hurts (physically or emotionally) is one of the hardest sensations I know of.
     Believe me, I know this isn’t “normal” or standard. I’ve had two “normal” pregnancies. (Ones that actually reflect what’s written on all those “what’s happening this week" pregnancy websites.) And now I’ve had this pregnancy. (I had NO idea what I was signing up for this time.) This is very, very, very hard. And very lonely.
     Apparently sick-feeling-pregnancy can happen to anyone, but clearly doesn’t happen to everyone. Just because you haven’t been there, doesn’t mean it’s not a very, very real place. And stating “facts” about a place you’ve never been can make you sound pretty crazy.
      So, if a momma says she’s suffering (She doesn’t necessarily have to look like she feels bad. You shouldn’t need to be convinced), she is doing nothing but being honest, and hoping someone will be kind to her.
 
     Personally, the response I most welcomed most from a mom who hasn’t had sick pregnancies was this:
“Wow I have no experience with that, and I just have so much respect for mom’s who’ve had to go through that. I can’t even imagine.” (All said with kind eyes and true sympathy.)
That felt great compared to hearing pretty much anything else you could say if you haven’t been there.

And by the way, saying “It will be worth it.” sounds insensitive to the pain when you are in the middle of it. Mommas are aware the end result is a baby. But that doesn’t change how hard the time between conception and delivery can be. And how terribly long that is to feel horrible. If she wants to say “It will be worth it.”-- she’s the one experiencing it.  But if you haven’t experienced something similar, it’s not really something you should say. (That’s not to say it’s not worth it. It’s just not a great idea for you to say it.)

All that, and more, is why I’m telling you to just say: “I’m so sorry.” You can’t go wrong with that.
But just FYI. If it makes sense, and you have it in you, and are close enough --- you can cry with the momma. This is that kinda situation. 
(*Wait, I take it back, you don’t even have to be close. I almost cried on a nice cashier who sympathized with me for 3 mins, a couple weeks ago. Her eyes filled up too. You can be pretty sure I love her now. Even if I never see her again.)

The other big thing I like to hear is, “I’m praying for you.” I like it simple like that -- no further description is needed. I can’t misinterpret that statement. (Hormones feed by sickness: they love to misinterpret things.)

And, personally, I will love you forever if you say "I’m praying baby comes out soon", without a caveat. Add a caveat, and I’m not putting you in the same 'love you forever' category -- you’ll wind up with internal, hormone-wrath instead -- sorry, it’s just the way it is. No one wants to hear, "I’m kinda hoping you’ll have just a couple extra weeks of feeling like you’re dying.” We’re all adults , we get the uncertainty of birth and timing. Just wish happy things without logic. (I’ve lost all logical ability a few months back anyway.)

Summary: Believe sick mommas. (She’s probably not even told you the half of it.) Love sick mommas with whatever level of sympathy you can muster. And just an “I’m so sorry” can be enough healing salve for the day.

End Speach.
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Anyway, so yeah, nesting kinda went on hold, at least in regards to me accomplishing it. Being 35 weeks, and feeling like the baby was trying to fall through my cervix while walking a just few steps is confusing. If I was full term I’d be like “Heck yeah! Come on out baby!” Embrace the pain and let the baby press on out.

I think he or she look's low. Compared to:

(And I actually haven’t gained any weight these last two weeks (for once!) so that’s just all baby position shift.)

But I’m not full term, so I don’t really know if it’s good to feel such intense sensations on my cervix quite yet. It’s a confusing mental equation….  "So in the past I’ve gone to 42 weeks. This time I want to be done ASAP. When do I embrace the “get out now” stuff? Do I need to counter act the old standard of 42 by going crazy at 35 to balance towards the middle? Or am I risking having baby a tiny bit too early if I do that?”
I just went with my gut which said, “Now is not the time to do anything. You should rest it out this week." So I was pretty much living on the couch all week. (Loving my new couch though! SO comfortable. Shockingly so.)

And that’s so disheartening. I have a list a million miles long of things I could get done before baby arrives. But oh well. Honestly part of me thinks that I’ll think getting stuff done with a newborn around is a piece of cake after feeling so sick for so long. (If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. At least I’ll not feel pregnant. I can always get stuff done later. None of it really matters in the grand scheme of things.) (But my nesting hormones aren’t quite so willing to embrace that idea. That’s why it’s so hard at the moment. It’s like my body just is in constant battle with itself. “I want you to do ALL THE THINGS, only I’m making you ALL THE IMMOBILIZED!!)

So I’m very happy to be one week closer to full term right now, as I type.
Next week I will be full-on embracing the “come out baby” world.
I’m not sure it will look anything like it did last pregnancy(ies.) I actually feel pretty confident (wrong or right) that I know my body this time and I’m just gonna go with my gut again.
I’ll be skipping the pineapple, cumin seed tea, the castor oil, and google. None of those helped. Primerose oil didn’t seem to do much. Membrane sweeps (all 7 per pregnancy) had no affect on me. So I’m skipping that too.
I’m spending tons of time on my hands and knees. (That gives baby room to get in best position, and good positioning helps bring on labor and aids in labor’s progress.) I’ll be walking my neighborhood, letting baby get down on my cervix. I’ll be traveling up and down my stairs. letting my pelvis open more. But the main thing I will be doing is just getting my emotions in check.
Looking back on it now, I can see that the night Ruby born was the first time during that whole pregnancy that I emotionally relented to the whole idea of birth. Every second before that, as much as I wanted to VBAC, I was partly holding back in fear. The night I finally went into labor was the very first time I said to myself, “Just let go.” And I embraced a “Who cares? It will happen when it happens, and it will happen how it happens.” Which in that instance was the first time I let go of fear, and basically unclenched my emotions, and un-tensed my body. And I think that openness was what let my body finally open.
So this time I’m just gonna open, open, open with my mind. I don’t care who thinks I’m crazy (or even if my brain wants to tell me I’m crazy) this is what I’m set on. I don’t care if it doesn’t work. I think it will. And I think that’s key.

So now the goal is to just survive one more week without the ability to start that process.
Just the knowledge that it’s allowed to end at any moment with be such a welcome relief. It will feel like the rescue raft is pulling me back to shore, instead of me just treading water alone out in the ocean.

My pinky, at the bottom, is touching the baby’s butt. Above is lots of space.

Anyway, about this past week:
Probably the biggest event was we had our huge honey locust tree taken out of our back yard.
It was an enormous tree. I thought it was lovely. It had fairy tale curves. And initially really wanted to try and save it. But it was sick. And it hung directly over our house and our neighbor’s house. And to make matters worse, last summer it gave one of my daughters hives from it’s seed pods. So it crossed the momma bear. And I was ready to say goodbye to it.

Poor Jasmine though. She cried. She wanted to make it better and let it live.

So being that it was enormous, hanging over two houses, as well as power lines, and inside a fenced not too large back yard made us know this was not a DIY kinda event. Blake’s cut down his share of trees himself. But this was something different. Actually the only way to have this removed was to use a company who has an enormous crane that can hoist the limbs up over our house. 

This was expensive.  Very expensive. And we had our back and forths about if somehow we could possibly DIY to avoid the cost. But after they got started and we watched the process we KNEW we had spent smart money. There would have been no other way to remove this tree.

They started by cutting a branch that had grown into/through another branch. Right in the top center you can see the strange divot it just fell out of. (Just the fact the tree had done that made it possible for that branch to break and fall on our house.)

Here we are watching him climb around from our upstairs window.

Here’s a limb flying up over our house.

Another one being lowered down.

Some of these limbs were literally bigger than the trees in our front yard. (Not this one. It’s hard to capture really big ones with the camera from inside a window.)

Saw dust going everywhere.

A floating trunk.

There’s the huge wood chipper. It didn’t eat those logs laying there. (A big truck came and got those later on.) But it ate everything else whole. (Like the branch that looked like a small whole tree, up a few pictures ago.) It was crazy. 

And now, our sunny back yard. 

Someday we can grow a garden now. That’s exciting!

   
So besides that excitement….

Blake’s been really sweet and has helped me get a few of my “musts” done while I’ve been immobilized.

Recently I’ve been trying to get our bedroom to really feel like a done master bedroom. Part of that was the end table/dresser I painted a while ago.

And now I’ve been working on the decorations. (That white lamp was a $5 brass lamp I made over and love.)

But a big thing I got fixated on was the light fixture aspect.

    The ever present dilemma of form and function meeting in the sweet spot. Blake and I both said we’d like a ceiling fan in the room. (I, of course, struggled to admit it. Since light fixtures are so much more stylish. But I have grown to love having a fan on at night.) So I set out to find something that would appease my style issues.
Pinterest, Pinterest, Pinterest.
And online shopping, shopping, shopping.
(Good thing I’m glued to the couch, right?)
At first I was gonna say yes to this fan. Because it’s pretty for a fan. But after measuring how large it is -- it was gonna look enormous in our space. I had to say goodbye to it.
Then I was trying to find another pretty fan.
And pretty fans kinda don’t exist. If they try to go chandelier, they just look like a fan playing dress up. There are some sleek fans out there. But they didn’t feel like the right direction for my room. And some of them that MIGHT BE a fit, were crazy expensive.



THEN I found this picture.


This room almost took my jaw off. I love it so much! I am seriously wanting to steal her paint scheme for my bedroom…. someday…. when I have the strength. (For now I plan to enjoy my current scheme.)

Via

Creator of this space, Kristin Jackson, of The Hunted Interior said about her fan,  "Now the one thing I knew going into this project, was that there was no way I would be able to get rid of a ceiling fan in our space.  That is the one item my husband has to have!.. So if I was going to be putting a fan in this space, I had to up the style factor. I went with an uber modern, clean design but decided to pair it with a very traditional ceiling medallion.  This was a great compromise for both style & function.”

This sounded brilliant to me. Like mind blowing. “Yes. This IS the way to treat a fan.” It just works.

So I started to trying to find my fan and my medallion. After much looking. I thought, “You know what? None of these fans that I can easily buy, are all that modern-glorious for the money…. I actually really like the shape of my current fan.... Let’s just spray paint it white. It’s not modern, but I think it will be cute.”

So with that in mind, I didn’t feel bad spending a chunk of change on the medallion, because I wasn’t buying a fan. I was thinking I’d spend up to maybe $60 on a medallion. But as fate would have it, my favorite option was only about $30.  At one point I would have baulked at spending more than $20 on a medallion --it’s just a medallion is something that sounds trivial. But this experience has TOTALLY changed my mind. In the end, between my medallion and the spray paint (I also started with a metal primer spray paint, just in case), I only spent about $40 for what feels like a whole new room!

     Getting this fan down, and outside to paint, and up again, plus medallion up has been part of Blake being very kind to my hormonal mess of myself. (Plus hanging a couple mirrors and curtain rods.)
 

     Now that it’s done, I am seriously blown away by how different the room looks. It’s SO worth $40! Blake is equally as wowed. He said it looks like we ripped it out of an old theater. 

(I made my bed for you, but sorry, I didn’t clean off my big dresser. I can only give you so much. Some day I hope I can go back and use a real camera and do some Pinterest quality shots. But that might just never happen.)

It’s shocking to both of us how snazzy this small light makeover wound up being. I haven’t gotten over how great this medallion is. It really makes our room feel like the master bedroom. All our home’s bedrooms are squares and just about the same exact size. (Our's has a bathroom attached, but visually the room wasn’t any more masterful than the other rooms.) But now, suddenly, this room commands some serious respect. 

I’m having to fight the urge to go medallion-nuts and just glue medallions to every surface of the house because it’s just so moving to look at this one. lol. (I’m not gonna really put them everywhere. But, I AM thinking our entryway is gonna get one when we get to that area. I just don’t think I can resist. We’ll see. But correction to earlier statements: I don’t think the entry will be attempted before baby arrives. Time schedules aren’t lining up for that. But that’s ok.)

So I’ve been enjoying my room a lot more now. And I keep having happy thoughts about how good it will feel to have that done with the new baby and me spending a lot of time in the bedroom. (Even if we are only talking night feedings, that’s gonna feel ritzier now.)

     The room isn’t done, done. I need to get that mirror (that I keep taking my pregnant pictures in) off the old closet door and framed out properly. And We still have no closet doors. (I have no idea how I want to handle them. Form and function are both feeling tricky to me. I don’t know what I want them to look like. And I don’t know if I want bi-folds, or sliders (which I hated so probably not), or…. I wish I could do french doors -- but they will take a ton of space with the doors open it’s an 72” opening. I can’t figure out the best idea yet. It’s a head scratcher. ) Also I’d like to revamp the closet layout at some point. But the rest of the space is feeling pretty dang good. And I LOVE that! (I love that I get to decorate finally! Not just get the prep work done.)

The other exciting thing I did was find this amazing vintage piece 

for….
wait for it….
$10!!!!
I was at Goodwill, and got weak in the knees when I passed by this baby. It was one of those “oh…no…you are way out of my league, hot girl, I can’t even….” moments.

I know these telephone chairs/ gossip benches are defunct now with cell phones around. But for some reason I had gotten it in my head that I’d really like one, a few months ago. But I had been inspired by older ones of a different style. Something more like this.

 I had NEVER seen one of this era. I didn’t realize they were still a thing at that point. So when I saw midcentury legs on a telephone chair…in a Goodwill, in person…and with a cool upholstery (had never seen one of these benches with upholstery either!) I honest to goodness got week in the knees. (My love for vintage decor is strong.)

I cautiously approached, side eyed the price tag. $10.00 But the way it’s written there was no decimal point, the decimals are just written tinier than the dollar part. 

So I immediately thought it said $100. And totally agreed with that statement. I thought, "Yes, this is thrift store $100s of awesome because on Etsy you should be like $400.” (See this old Etsy listing for proof.) I then decided to enjoy it where it was for a moment before I said goodbye to it. I sat in it. I caressed it. I looked one more time at the price tag and now noticed the two zeros were smaller than the first. I checked the second price tag stuck on it. Wait…. are you serious? $10!?!?!?
TEN DOLLARS!?!!?!?
At this point I’m doing the suspicious looking over my shoulder, and wondering if this is for real, while wanting to shout crazy things.
Thankfully a couple different nice men helped me get it both to the register and to my van. I was trying to do it my(round)self (It’s not super heavy, just slightly too heavy) and they took pity on me. So nice.
(Don’t you love how I completely lose my sense of pre-term labor fears when finding vintage treasures? So logical I am. But you find a bright spot in your sick life and you run with it straight to the cash register, before someone else can buy it first! Amiright?)

I have no idea if you are as in love with this thing as I am. If you are not that is good, because you won’t hate me for finding it for only $10! But if you are. Let’s virtual high five and wipe some tears from our eyes and have a moment of loving staring silence.

The seat needs some TLC. One leg is kinda weird, the brace is bent or something so that one leg seems shorter, even if it’s not really. And it needs some major cleaning. (Been too tired. Normally I do it the second it gets in the door.) But once again. Ten Dollars. The legs should cost $10! If for some reason I wake up and hate this thing ever, I should clearly sell it on Etsy for $400 and make myself $390!

I kinda switched the back of my living room up a bit. And with this piece, I think we are onto something. Getting very close to a “finished product” set up.

This is a terrible picture. But on the left is three old couch cushions I think I will recover to be sorta like this:

And the pink thing is a bean bag chair I think I’ll recover sort of like this:

And maybe someday get really ambitious and created a knitted pouf from it?

The next thing we need to do in the living room is hang up our guitars. I think that will fill out the look nicely.
Someday we will frame that mirror and secure it (Before baby can move, or I’ll put it away before baby can move.) I’ll work on getting rugs and lighting. And a second coat of paint in my somewhat blotchy french doors.

I also need to sand and paint a few more wood outlet and lightswitch covers for the living room, reading room and master bathroom. I think I can get that done soon. I hope.

My only other real nesting needs is organizing the guest room. I kinda let it blow up with crafts and fabric and chaos as I cleaned other spots. I’m hoping to get that under control this week, so it will be ready for baby visiting.
And well, the baby’s room is still a mess. You’d think that’d be numero uno on the nesting list. But I have no delusions of the baby using that room until months after they get here. I sleep much better with baby in my room to start with. And even if for some reason they did need to use the room (due to reasons I can’t even come up with?) I also know babies have zero clue how cute their room is. The biggest concern is how well I can hide the sun from their eyes in the early morning! So actually the baby’s room is last on my nesting list. I’ve pretty much just started picturing cleaning their room with them along side me.

So I’m trying to tell myself to squelch the nesting urges -- I want nothing impeding going into labor. I have no unfinished business.

When people ask me when I’m due I’ve just started to tell them I’ll be full term next week. Which pretty much confuses them to death. But I need to word things in the most positive framing I can come up with.

Pregnancy side by sides:
(I think these photos have always been the least comparable. Since I wore such weird clothes for a picture in Pregnancy #1)

 

Ok, and to inspire more early (but not too early -- so starting next week) delivery thoughts,

Here’s me now compared to the end of last time.

38 Weeks #2

I think I’m lower already. Clearly look bigger. That I can tell. lol. (Don’t even care. Just wanna be done.)

 

41 Weeks with #2

I can’t tell if it’s wishful thinking, 

But I wanna say I look lower already than even my last pregnancy photo from #2.

Stay in for one more week, then come out baby!

34 Weeks Pregnant with #3

Last week was bad. I was back to un-functionally nauseous. I had a really hard time with my thoughts. I didn’t get into that despondent place, but I did get into a very frustrated place.
I needed Blake to bring me home dinner every night again because all food except for one random takeout was gonna kill me. I had a hard time feeding the girls.
By Thursday I asked on my personal Facebook page for everyone to pray for me because I was losing it. And the next day Blake was needing to head out of town. So I was pretty freaked out.
Thankfully Friday I felt functional. So thank you everyone who prayed.
I also had a sweet friend offer to bring me dinner (whatever I wanted) Friday when Blake was gone. I think she offered on Wednesday (maybe Thursday) while I was in the middle of feeling like death and scared, so I almost cried when Blake told me she said that, because I just felt so relieved and not abandoned. But by Friday night I was actually up to eating food I had in the house (and I wanted to), so I didn’t need to take her up on it, but I could cry all over again thinking about it.

It was a hard week because I really want to finish nesting, but I was just so sick. The only thing I can figure is that when I spend energy in anyway it comes back to bite me as nausea, so all the nesting the week before, knocked me out for a week of payback.

By the weekend I was feeling decent again. Blake finished up (mostly) our kitchen shelves/countertop. (It needs a couple little braces added in still.)
So Sunday night and Monday I spent my time staining and painting it. (With my mask on.) I was wearing the UGLIEST outfit of my life and feeling so pregnant-gross. MY paint shorts plus a tank top that has no hope of fitting anymore, will by belly hanging out -- I felt very much like a huge beer-guted guy in a wife-beater. Add in no makeup, unwashed hair and some tennis shoes (to keep my feet from swelling) and you had one hot momma.
But the countertop is almost done. I need to give it a couple more coats of poly on top.

And Blake needs to secure it all together, and add some braces under the shelves to make sure they are ready for my canned goods and such.

But can you guess how I feel right now (Tuesday morning)? Yep -- Gross. I’m paying back yesterday’s bill.
(Thing is, I have plans to get more done today, so body, you’re gonna have to write a rain check ok?)

Sunday at church I wore a full pleated skirt over my belly, so I think I looked extra-particularlly pregnant (on top of being particularly pregnant.) So everyone asked me the “You’re still pregnant? / Still no baby?” Questions. That used to bother me (in the last two pregnancies.) But this time I don’t care. Baby still isn’t allowed out for 2 more weeks now, but I’m all for getting into the overdue mentality, because I want this baby out as soon as possible! I figure it can’t hurt to fully embrace the whole end-of-things-mentality and so if people wanna make me past due, whatever. I’m not gonna stop them. I just told them to pray baby comes out in three weeks. I love that most people very willingly agree. (I love this third time around credibility -- I only got one comment attempting to tone down my anticipation, everyone else totally gets that I get it, and that I’m sick, so they are just totally on board. If I was a first time mom I KNOW I’d be getting TONS of lectures.)
     (I seriously love saying this is my third -- it stops so many people from saying anything -- it’s like magic in the grocery stores and such -- zero advice, just like hat tipping and nods of respect. You first time mommas might just wanna try lying about it sometime it’s amazing -- just say the kids are with grandma and people just act like you are an actual intelligent adult it’s wonderful. And yes go with third -- second doesn’t give the street cred -- it brings the “you’re hands are gonna be full” comments. Third is where it’s at for conversation gold. )

Anyway, Saturday I’m pretty positive baby dropped. Saturday evening I couldn’t help Blake do baths or bedtime with the girls because I felt like just ew -- like sorta vaguely labor-ish -- but no -- I just felt like I had to lay down and everything felt labor emotional. I don’t know how to explain it in words. I wasn’t literally thinking I was in labor. I just kept thinking wow I have to listen to my body right now, and I have to lay down. And when I would walk I felt freaked out by how the sensations were labor reminiscent -- without actually being freaked out I was in labor. (There really aren’t words to get this across accurately. It wasn’t scary pre-term labor stuff. It was just instinctual sensations.)

Since my third trimester, I’ve been trying to be really open to following my body’s call when it’s time to be in certain positions. I’ve just popped off the couch at random drops of hats to get into hands and knees. Or sit on the birth ball. Or do inversions. I just go for it. I think that has helped. (The only thing that’s hard is it often ups my nausea to be in these positions. )

Anyway, so by Saturday evening I went to feel for the baby’s head (with my hands on belly) and I couldn’t find it. And I had a sudden “Ohhh! I see. That vague-labor-like sensation from earlier was baby getting down in my pelvis."
And then when looking in the mirror I can totally see a huge gap from ribs to baby. I think it’s bigger than I ever had with either of my girls. (I’m still trying to hold in my ab muscles through the day, to help keep a  diastasis recti from getting worse. So holding up those muscles keeps my belly from looking as dropped as it is when I relax.)

I don’t feel like getting dressed for a picture right now (sorry.) So I’m just gonna use this pic I took to show my mom my belly the other day (my belly is relaxed in the photo), next to a picture of last week. (Maybe I’ll try to take a real picture later today.)

And You don’t feel the baby’s butt until even lower.

I’m gonna take this a a super good sign. I’m really just emotionally opening up to a 38 week delivery and asking everyone to pray for it. (Internet disclaimer -- I’m a third time mom who’s gone to 42 weeks two times before -- I know the stats, please don’t fill me in.) I’m just not even going to mentally accept the imagery of being pregnant past 38 weeks because I don’t want to give my hormones that leeway. I am pretty sure my emotions played into long pregnancies before (I know lots of stuff goes into these things, but looking back I can see how they fit in.) So I’m not gonna give room for those this time. I’ve been done for like 5 months now. I’m ready. Labor doesn’t even remotely phase me at this stage. WHATEVER it takes to move on past this sickness sounds like a wonderful idea to me. Labor sounds like a vacation compared to this pregnancy, and I’m not even exaggerating. And I’m embracing that fact as well. I’m going for positive goodness in terms being right there at the finish line, not letting anything scare me away from it.

I think I already look like 39 weeks last time around.
 

 So once again -- embracing that. Bring on the end. (One theory of what brings on labor (still kills me [and probably everyone] that they don’t know what actually starts labor) is just your uterus being stretched out enough -- which is the theory of why so much preterm labor with multiples. So I say -- get stretched and low belly. Bring it.)
(It took 3 weeks after that 39 week photo last time for Ruby to come out -- so I’m not too worried about going too early. I’m got my hopes on good-early.)


I showed the girls a birth video yesterday. I don’t know if they will see the baby born or not. But I don’t want them to be nervous if they hear me moaning. And I want them to know that I will be busy when I’m in labor -- that they can’t just keep asking me for juice or whatever.
I picked a video I had watched before that was very mild and sweet with kids there. I liked it because it reminded me of what I sounded like in labor with Ruby and there was nothing too dramatic to overwhelm them with first seeing a baby born. The mom is totally naked. But I figured who cares. They follow me in the bathroom all the time. And they’ve seen my boobs and they’ll be seeing them a ton coming up.
Jasmine has seen a TON of birth videos as a two year old -- I watched them compulsively when getting ready to VBAC. But she doesn’t remember them.
When I was first pregnant this time, we read this book and it shows, in pretty tame cartoon, a baby coming out. (It’s a sweet book. I like it.)
And so I’m guessing that was enough to get them to a pretty good understanding. Because when I showed them this video they totally took it in stride. Zero reaction to the mom being naked. And just oos and ahhs and “so cute”s when the baby’s head was out. (Which I was surprised by because you can’t even see the face, and the baby is still half in. But they were all about that baby.) And they loved seeing the video of the baby after she was born. Actually I did too. I’ve had a such a hard time getting into the idea that I’m having a baby. I’ve just been so sick feeling I’m so detached from this baby. So I loved looking at that sweet new born and kinda grasping things finally. I got excited to think about holding a baby again.
After watching the video, Jasmine told me she does want to see the baby come out. I told her we’d do our best, but I can’t promise, sometimes babies come out faster than anyone is ready for. She seemed ok with that. She also wants "to hold the baby…after they are clean.” Those are her birth requests. Ruby’s just along for the ride -- no requests. She likes to tell me what she’s gonna share with the baby.

I’ve been looking back at my blog posts from last pregnancy. Just kinda piecing things together. And it was a strange thing to look at. This pregnancy has sucked so bad physically. But that pregnancy was so incredibly hard emotionally. And it also had a ton of life circumstances that were really pretty much too hard for me. God got us through, but wow was I on life support.
When I first looked at those posts I got more emotional (I was looking at them mid-super-sick-feeling emotions) and I got irritated. I felt both confused on if I was actually experiencing something harder this time (which I had figured I was) and just kinda mad that life has basically just been incredibly difficult since becoming a mom.
But the more time has past since I started thinking on these things the more I’ve decided that I ‘d rather be in this place now than the place I was last time. This time I’m not scared. I’m worn out to bits. But I’m not scared. And being scared is horrible.
I’ve had a couple times I’ve gotten scared of how sick I’ve been this pregnancy (the few times I couldn’t get my head out of the toilet.) But outside those times I’ve not been scared at all. And that’s pretty awesome.
Plus, I like my life circumstances a lot more this pregnancy than last pregnancy.
So getting those thoughts in place has given me some more optimism.

So that’s where I am now. I feel kinda optimistic (mixed with crabby when I feel sick.) I’m starting to sorta grasp I’m having a baby. (I think we might have to watch that video some more.) And I’m trying to nest-it-up. I hope my body cooperates.

33 Weeks Pregnant with #3

The Nesting! So much nesting!

I have never nested this hard in my life. Granted, the last two times I got to the end of a pregnancy I wasn’t living in a half finished house. So that could have something to do with it. A little bit. :)
But either way, the nesting bug got me good.
And I can’t say I mind. It feels so good to have the gumption to do stuff. And it feels so good to get stuff done.

To interject about how I feel Physically (I’ll come back to the fun of nesting afterwards):

 

Mess brought to you by nesting. I’m mid stuff everywhere stage.

Also, enjoy my dorky socks. It’s cold today, I didn’t wanna take them off for the pic.

I’m not sure how to explain it.
I do feel better than before. I have more stamina to get this nesting done. (But some of this stuff is done just purely under the “I think I can” mentality that I just have decided to muster after laying on the couch for so long. I don’t always feel like moving, but I’ve just started to anyway because I can’t stand it any longer. It might sound like I’m feeling awesome, but I’m really just feeling sick-and-tired of being sick and tired, and doing my best to ignore myself. Clearly I am better than before, because before this stuff wasn’t even an option. But the point I’m making is, I’m not feeling as good as the nesting pictures I’ll show you might make it seem.) I can eat more foods, I do get breaks from nausea now. Which is great.
     But I do still feel very subpar. I still have chunks of time where I am incapacitated (physically and mentally) by nausea. It’s nice that I get breaks now. But it’s also very disappointing when it comes back. It can be hard to keep from wanting to get in bad mental holes of sadness and impatience -- just wanting to be done being pregnant already, this is a freakishly long amount of time to feel like crap. (Weekly reminder: Please pray Baby comes at 38 weeks. That gives me a month left. And that’s about all I feel up to handling. Actually I would have signed off a long time ago if that was possible. My old normal was 42 weeks -- and two more months of this just sounds…to state it mildly: unappealing.)
     My body aches beyond reason.  Getting up after laying down, takes me about 5 (literal) minutes because of the pain that shoots through my pelvis is excruciating. I have to just do incremental movements, to slowly work the kinks out. There really isn’t another option. I can’t muscle through it -- its a pain that just stops you dead in your tracks. Sometimes just sneezing zaps my pelvis and hips with this same jolt of pain. Maybe it's sciatica, maybe not. I just know I’ve never had it before in pregnancy. And it’ started basically as soon as I got pregnant this time. My kids have started to ask if “I’m stuck” when I get up. And they have also started to copy me at times, acting like their legs hurt and they need to limp (when I know it’s just a strange sympathy thing, not any sort of real injury.)    
     There are many things about this pregnancy that make me feel regret for the way it affects my kids that are outside my body. Just one example (there are many more) --Jasmine has told me more than once that she will just adopt her babies so her stomach doesn’t have to hurt so much. I’m totally for adoption, and if she wants to adopt children that’s awesome. I just regret scaring her about pregnancy. That really just breaks my heart.  But it is what it is. I can’t change it. I do my best to talk her through it. But I have been laying on the couch and being a pretty lame mom for a long time -- that I can’t change.
     So all that said (and more not said), honestly, I get a bit aggravated when people kindly say something to the effect of me feeling better and how they are glad. I know they are being nice. And I do feel less bad than I used to. So I’m not holding it against them for saying it. I’m glad they don’t want me to feel sick. But when they say something so optimistic and brief, it just feels like trivializing what has been my life, for a huge chunk of time. And it feels like they are trivializing how I still feel -- which can still be horrible. (Like today as I write this, I feel pretty darn gross.) And it feels like they are rushing me to just stop talking about it already. (And well, outside the blog, I try not to talk about it much…. but if someone asks me how I feel, I like to be honest. And believe me, they most certainly get a very summarized easy version of what I actually feel like.) So I guess it feels goofy to me for someone to ask me if they don’t actually want to listen to me, or take what I’m saying as real, and instead just rush me off to a happy ending -- I’m so not at a happy ending right now. A month (or pray, not two) more of this, sounds very prison-like right now. So I think I’d really just love to hear “Wow I’m so sorry it’s been so hard. I’ll be praying for you."
     To be honest, even after baby is here I’m not gonna sign myself up for enjoying happy statements along the lines of “wasn’t it worth it” etc. (I’m REALLY not looking forward to those. I’m not sure how I will respond when it happens.) Clearly this pregnancy is a sacrifice with great reward, and I will forever be grateful for my child. And I am very aware that some people would gladly sign up for 10 months of feeling like death for a child. But I’m just not for pretending this pregnancy wasn’t the hardest, worst time of my life, by sweeping it under the rug and putting a happy bow on top. I can’t stop people from doing it but I’m pretty sure if they walked in these shoes they would have a much harder time sticking that kind of bow on it. This has definitely been the hardest thing I’ve gone through, after a string of hard things. (And I’m still going through it.)
     It has me processing God, Jesus, the Bible, and church differently. I’m not getting into it here, and I’ve not really come to my full conclusions. But I’m just gonna say there is a lot of suffering in the Bible and I don’t think we often touch on that as American Christians. (At least not where I’ve attended or listened in.) It’s not always victory and healing. And in the Bible, even after a victory (which many times came strictly through pain), people still mourn the hardships, they still carry those scars. I think God is big enough for that. (I mean the entire nation of Israel, right!?) (I mean, you try wondering in a literal desert for your whole life and then  not have any emotional issues when moving into a new country. It’s easy when it’s a kid’s Bible story, in Sunday School. “Oh you silly Israelites, so ungrateful, so little faith.”  It’s not when you actually experience it. If we walked those shoes I think we’d whine like them, or worse really -- I mean how many of us live with A/C, TVs, and pillowtop mattresses? I would HATE wondering the desert!)  People aren’t always up for dealing with people while, and after, they’ve been through a lot of pain though. We like to wrap it up. Get’r done. I’m very glad God hangs out with us suffering whiners long after we aren't any fun, and even after we question him, and even after we struggle in a new and good place he gives us. He keeps us as his people anyway.

That said, I’m not trying to dwell on this pregnancy’s horribleness. I’ve been really aiming for happier thoughts now when I can. And once the baby is here I really do wanna just move on and live my life and enjoy it. I don’t think I want to do much processing of this hardship -- the whys and whatnot.  I think I just wanna go on to enjoy our life together. My health is gonna be something all together new and wonderful to me after all this. But I just don’t want to ever attempt to say that this pregnancy was a happy thing in and of itself. It wasn’t, and I don’t need it to be. No amount of love for this baby is gonna change the fact that I literally felt like I was dying for months and months. I will be happy to have my baby. I’m not going to hold this pregnancy over them. I don’t wanna do that “you owe me, I carried you for 9 long months…” I know it’s not their fault. I won’t put that on them. But I won’t ever say chipper things about this pregnancy, I won’t try to figure out a way to put a positive spin on it. Beauty can come from ashes, but it doesn’t mean there wasn’t a fire. I’ll likely at some point say the inevitable “I’d do it all again to have you.” But that doesn’t mean it would be a happy chunk of time, doing it all again. (And thank you God that’s not actually an option!)


Anyway….
Nesting.
The fun stuff.
Enough with the heavy already!


The week started out with me kinda just recovering from that couch buying trip, and putting the couch together. I didn’t do much of anything for a few days. The house was looking really messy. I wasn’t cleaning. I wasn’t moving. I was tired. I was sick-feeling.
Here and there I scooted stuff around my living room, trying to figure out the layout of the back half of the room.
Then on Thursday suddenly the scooting turned into a look I was sort of into. And once that happened. Watch out world --- I was on a mission to make the whole house a home.
     We’ve had all our art and decor just leaning up against walls since we moved in. I couldn’t put it up until I knew what our rooms were gonna be like. But suddenly I felt like I knew. So I turned into this whirl wind of a stuff-mover-arounder. I just started to take mirrors and art and furniture from one room to another, and curating our rooms.
Now, for you to picture this accurately, you should know that at no point did I actually start cleaning before this process. Our family room looked like a toy tornado hit it and generously sprinkled food crumbs into the mist of them. Our kitchen table and countertops held more gross, than any adult should be ok with. Our laundry was piling up. But I just totally looked past it all, and focused on our walls.
     I’m learning something about myself. I can’t tidy well if things aren’t pretty to start with. And will never be good at putting things away until they have a official place to live.
     So as the walls were turning into good things. I was inspired to find good homes from our stuff. And as good homes for our stuff are turning up, I am inspired to clean.
     So you can see how this is a delightful process of nesting glory.
          Walls turning pretty. Furniture getting into the right spot. Clothes finding good homes. My heart feeling inspired towards total organization. Suddenly I clean off the table and pick up the toys and vacuum up the crumbs. Then I do laundry. Then I put the nesting cherry on top -- washing my wash machine. (I do this every pregnancy, it’s hilarious. It’s actually good to do. It’s just funny I get the urge while pregnant. I run a wash cycle of just hot water and bleach. I scrub off the agitator, and all the nooks and crannies of the lid, and bleach-pouring-in-spot, and the fabric softener spot. After that, I run a cycle of just water and vinegar. And then I always am sure to wash my white towels first after that -- just because I’m  bleach paranoid.)

I feel pretty delighted in how our house is suddenly feeling real (like a home, not just a messy reno explosion) and enjoyable.

Here’s a not so chronological picture story of what I’ve been doing.

It started with me arranging the living room.

It’s not done-done. But it’s room like.
We need a new lamp. That sliver stick with a light bulb on top is kinda a room killer. lol. But I think I have a fun game plan for lighting.

I almost thought those ottomans were done in our house, but I really like them in front of the fireplace. I’m toying with the idea of giving them a fitted cover. But they look ok now.

We are going to hang Blake’s guitars on the wall above the piano.

That lamp on the bench by the window….I found it free. It’s vintage and had a HUGE lamp shade on it. I threw the shade away because it was just hideous and HUGE. But now I’m questioning that move. It was too big, but so far I’m can’t find a shade that’s not too small. Does that one look wonky? I might just have to give away the lamp if I can’t figure this out. Which isn’t a loss. Just a puzzle.

That painting, over the fireplace, I also found for free. (With the lamp.) I thought it was pretty ugly and planed to do something to change it. But during my moving-stuff-frenze I set it up there and was kinda wowed by how great it works there. At least for now anyway. In person it just stands out so nicely amongst the white and black of the room.

I love that big mirror leaning there. But I plan to frame it out and secure it to the wall.

It’d be really cool to pull off something really fancy like this. We will see:

Via

The “art” over the amp over there on the right -- I like the concept of it being on the hangers. But what’s on there right now is invisible since my printer ran out of ink. :)

I’m still not SUPER sure about this back corner. But for now this is working for me. 

I’m not sure about the ottoman under the desk. (Workin that thought out.)
I’d like to add some shelves over the desk and a pouf like this picture has on the right here.

Via

After scooting stuff,  until I liked the room --  I replaced the broken handles on our gold fireplace cover, and then took that baby outside and spray painted it black.

That took me a day to get used to the change. But now I really like it.

Next I hung up art in the kitchen.

I want to get that coffee sign into a better frame that actually fits it. But for now I’m just getting stuff on the walls and off the floor.

That middle painting I found at the thrift for less than $3. And I LOVE it. It looks a lot like my favorite beach in Michigan. 

(Plus I feel totally validated in loving this painting because Emily Henderson’s all about vintage seascapes too! )

And then I just strung some cotton rope and clothes pins for displaying the kid’s art.

I’ve been on a hunt for a different nightstand in my bedroom. I have a lot of stuff stored under my bed right now and I don’t like how it get’s dust all over it. So I wanted a small enough dresser to be a side table. I found this baby for $30 at ReStore. It’s really a large filing cabinet. But it’s a great size for me. And the drawers are enormous so they will hold a lot for it’s size. Plus I like how far out the drawers come, being a filing cabinet works out really well for a corner right next to a bed. 

I primed it with boding primer.

And then I painted it black to match my other furniture. (I’ll show you a picture of it done, once I have the room set up better.) 

     I waited the amount of time the paint told me for recoating (24 hours!) for the second coat, in hopes that this won’t keep that tacky finish. It was SO hard to wait. And I’m still waiting to set stuff on it for like a week to help it cure too. (Gahh! Waiting!) But my last dresser never cured fully. It was a different brand paint, but still I don’t wanna risk it.

Oh random pregnancy side note:

Remember how last week I mentioned that no one has said I look like I’m "about to pop" yet? 

Well I did it, I jinxed myself. 

I went and got myself in to the most awkward pregnancy conversation of my life. (I don’t actually think I earned it. Just find it ironic that I said no one has said anything and then got this crazy event.)

Basically, it was a very elderly slow cashier at Walmart. She started talking to me before I was even up to be checked out (which made her even slower at getting anyone checked out.) Her first sentence to me was “You about to have it?” I told her in about a month. She told me I’d never make it that long. (I find it crazy how people think they can tell how old a fetus is and how safe it is for them to come out based on if they think you look round enough.) I told her well my other two were very late, so I hope this one comes early. (But of course I’m ignoring the fact she’s wishing me to have a premie.) She continues to say things implying I look very large. (I should note that I am a good distance from her, behind my shopping cart and behind the conveyer belt, and I’m short -- so I’m not even sure how much of my belly she can see.) And eventually just flat out asks me how much I weigh. 

She was mumbling and very hard to hear through this whole conversation. So at first I wasn’t sure she asked me that. So I asked her incredulously with eyebrows raised and mouth agape, “How much do I weigh?” She confirmed that yes, she wanted to know how much I weigh. I just laughed and stayed in total shock thinking all sorts of things before I finally realized she literally wanted a response so I just said “Oh I don’t know.” I really do wish I was better at come backs in the moment. But I suck at those. I wish I had asked her how much she weighs. Because to be totally honest, I think we’d come in around the same number. I have no idea what she was gonna prove. I can only guess she might be able to tell me she weighed 100 pounds full term with her babies. I don’t know. 

Anyway. The conversation continued on in a painful slow manner until I was finally checked out, and I left laughing out loud shaking my head.

Why do I tell you this story Right Now, you wonder?

Well because I have a great pendulum swing story to that one... while painting my dresser, I ran to the store in my paint clothes. I went into three different stores, struck up conversations at each. AND here’s the great part ladies….NO ONE said a word about my big belly. Each person said, “Looks like you’ve been painting.”

I’ve now solved pregnant women everywhere’s being-in-public annoying-conversation-issues!

Just leave your house in paint clothes and your belly becomes the last thing anyone wants to talk about. 

It’s kinda awesome. I may never shop in another outfit again!

Look at my lopsided bump -- that’s either baby’s butt or feet. :) I get most my nudges right there on the right. :) This baby’s still a mellow little one, just squirms and nudges, hardly any big kicks.

I’m trying my best to enjoy the feeling of the baby squirms (cause I really like baby squirms they are the best part and I miss them when I’m not pregnant) but it’s really hard to enjoy them this time. I don’t know if it’s just in my head or if it’s real, but I wind up imagining the feet pressing into my stomach are making me sick. There are some points where I don’t feel sick while baby is moving, so I try to soak those up as much as I can. I’m trying to connect with this kid a little -- so far it’s really hard to think about them at all, I just feel sick.

Anyway….

While I got to work on the dresser. 

Blake was AMAZING and started to work on my kitchen schemes.

I’ve decided to make our half-wall work as great as possible until our some-day kitchen makeover.

Since we moved in I’ve had this old radio cabinet working as a crappy pantry. I say crappy cause the inside still would need lots of help to house more stuff -- radio panels and drawers are still in there. AND because this is a really awkward size for the room.

We don’t have lots of counterspace. So I wanted a farmhouse style shelf/countertop to go around this “L” of the kitchen walls. And then reach through the window as a breakfast bar.

So Saturday Blake got to work on that!! I’m SO SO SO excited. It’s still in the works. But the room already feels like it makes so much more sense! It’s gonna be awesome.

We will build two shelves under here.

I plan to paint the legs and shelves white and stain the top (so that it's kinda butcher block like.)

Just for a visual, here’s someone else’s similar kinda thing.

Via

It’s gonna revolutionize our kitchen I tell you! I’m so excited.

So that was kinda my Mother’s Day gift. And I LOVE it.

It was a nice Mother’s Day for me. (Well, I actually felt really sick in the morning at church. We went early with Blake while he had worship practice. So I kinda just laid on the floor in the nursery to start with while the girls played, before church started. But whatever -- that’s just how I roll anymore.) This was the first year I didn’t really get any expectations set in my head about an idealized mother’s day. And that makes the day a lot better for me.  I remember that my first mother’s day as a mom felt pretty crappy because I was just so tired and it felt like nothing went right with my baby, and it felt so un-holiday-like. I’ve started setting my expectations better. (Basically I assume it’s a normal day. And so when normal things happen that’s ok.) Plus, Blake and I are a pretty great parenting team at this point. (Especially since he’s used to carrying my weight these days.) So he let me take a mother’s day nap -- and that’s all this momma wanted anyway. Plus, like I said, he started on my countertop Saturday. So major win all around.

Anyway. That’s kinda my week in review. (Well, plus Monday I pretty much just stayed on the couch. I was tired. I was nauseous. I wrote this post. And I did the rest of the laundry. And I ended the day nauseous enough to cry a little…. And then later, cry myself to sleep. Let’s hope next week has more of the better stuff.) I don’t know if the house looks like it’s coming along to anyone but me. (There are more rooms upstairs that have been tweaked without getting photos because they are just so messy you wouldn’t know they look better until I get stuff put away.) But to me, I’m suddenly feeling just thrilled with the difference. I’m in total denial that we could be at this point with the house. I felt stuck in “ew” (house work on pause due to ROUGH pregnancy) for so long I never thought it would happen.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!

I say bring it on. This nesting makes the house so much better AND it gives me hope my body really does wanna call this pregnancy finished soon. I hope it’s sending the “almost done” signal.

(I’ve decided I’m not gonna think about being pregnant past 38 weeks, just incase that has any emotional/mental bearing on my hormones. If it doesn’t happen, I’ll live -- Lord knows I’ve done long pregnancy before. But I’m just gonna keep telling myself I’ll be done in a month, hoping I’ll listen to myself. Pray, pray, pray!)