This last week was a little trickier. Baby boy grew, I think a LOT, and hormones or whatever have been messing with my sleep, I've been nauseous AND starving which is annoying, and I got one of my stupid headaches that sometimes happen due to sleeping on my neck weird. I guess. Headaches are a mystery.
Still, it's not been a difficult pregnancy and there's not much that can't be remedied. I'm looking forward to, um, birth (one of the worst words, just as a word) because why not? Here's why I don't dread it:
-painkillers
-nurses and medical assistants and midwives (they are all WONDERFUL)
-room service, especially meatloaf (go figure)
-SWEET LITTLE BABY
-PAINKILLERS!!!!!!!
-my baby!!!
I don't think I would feel quite so cheerful about it if it weren't for, um, painkillers.
Seriously.
Yes, doing things naturally (whatever that means) would make me more present. Also, it would make me the SPAWN OF SATAN. I dealt with bad contractions for all of an hour with Lola, and it was Not a Good Thing. I wasn't the spawn of Satan, but would've transformed eventually. I'm told they won't let you scream. I don't understand how that's possible. Do they tape your mouth shut?
Plus, it's funny when I'm on painkillers! I say things like "is it over yet?" 5 minutes into pushing! And then I make my husband tell me the entire story of the process periodically, because yeah, while I remember a lot of it, it's all a bit blurry. Though this is partly because they woke me up at 4am in a rush and I was suuuuuuuper out of it from that.
Have I written about all of this already? I don't know.
...
Well, the holidays are coming up, INEXORABLY, though I'm generally enjoying the process - especially with my little bug who is so curious. She likes to "help" me wrap gifts (AKA play with the tape and rip paper, etc.), she loves the tree (and trying to take it apart, and eat the candy canes), watching specials with me (loves the Snowman), reading her Christmas bookies, and enjoying my utter obsessive fawning over her in her little old man flannel jammies (she has many pairs, of course) and Santa slippers. I wasn't going to buy her something particular for Christmas because as her daddy rightly says, it's Christmas year-round for her, but after taking her to the Cleveland Children's Museum I realized... that a ball pit is in order.
Yes. A ball pit.
As the Christ Child would've have wanted it. (Or would've just wanted, period? Is that what the 4th wise man would've brought, had there been one? WELL?)
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