Home Stretch

Dear Baby Boy, Whose Name We Still Haven't Decided On, Even Though You're Going To Be Here In Six Days Or Less,

You make me tired.

I have gotten through the last ten months with a minimum of complaining. I felt like your sister shouldn't be penalized just because we were having another baby, so I've continued to ring around the rosie, wrestle and cuddle with her as much as ever. But last week, I hit a wall. I became tired of sounding like I was hyperventilating every time I crossed the room to answer the phone. I found myself lying down in the shower at 3pm one afternoon and thinking, "Dear Lord, I hope the hot water holds out, because I'm going to have to lie in here until Thor comes home from work to fish my butt out." I made it to the top of the stairs and decided to lie down and cry until your dad came to help me up and remind me why I'd ventured to the second floor in the first place. My self esteem took a real punch to the throat when I realized that most of my MATERNITY pants no longer fit. There is only one position I can sleep in, and it has given me an honest-to-goodness rash.

You don't have to go home, kid, but you can't stay here.

Yesterday, we had our final office visit with Dr. Burke, then went over to the hospital for our pre-op appointment. The sweet grandmotherly nurse started talking me through a procedure that I should be completely familiar with*, having been through it once already with your sister, and again I found myself crying - this time in public. Between wrapping up my work for the year and preparing for Christmas and taking care of your sister, I had let it completely slip my mind that a week from now, I'm going to have major surgery and then come home with a new human being. I called your grandmother, Peg Peg (reminder: she's a health care professional with over 35 years in the nursing profession, including a stint in labor and delivery). It went something like this:

Peg Peg: But everything is going to be just fine. You have nothing to worry about.
Mom: Well, they ARE going to pull out my innards and yank a baby out of 'em.
Peg Peg: Yeah, but they'll probably put everything back where they found it.

Probably.

Note that I made this phone call from the car on the way home from Christmas shopping, and made the charming discovery that I could set my cell phone to speaker and set it on top of my belly and it would perch there all the way to Mineral County.

We have no idea what we're going to name you, we don't know how we're going to handle it when you get here, and we don't know when we're going to sleep again. But because this isn't my first rodeo, I have already prepared our meals for the first two weeks after you get home, and I've been keeping track of the contents of our deep freezer as I go.

I might be worn out, I might be sleep-deprived, I might be cranky, but I will not be hungry. No, nor any of my kin.

I have no blood going to my brain these days, so I think I've forgotten where I was heading with all this, except to say that you're finally starting to be real for us, and we're just now starting to brace ourselves for what promises to be an amazing adventure.

See you soon!

Love,

Mom

* In case anyone finds it of interest, I'm having a repeat C-section because my last baby was over 11 pounds with no interest in coming out ever, and this one is also "measuring big." I weigh the same, with the same size abdomen as I had when Laney was born. Thor thinks we need to start a Vegas betting pool so people can guess our baby's birth weight. I think that makes our baby sound like a carnival attraction. But feel free to leave your guesses in the comments. I'll open with 9 pounds, 2 ounces. Prize to the winner.