Let's dive right in, shall we?
Emotions: Holy hot pickle on a scorching Sunday afternoon. These emotions. They are my nemesis. A few short days ago, hysterical laughter turned into hysterical tears without any warning. By nature, I'm a bit of a procrastinator. So I'm 31 weeks into this whole "being pregnant for the first time" thing and I hadn't spent one second looking for child-birthing classes. Shame. Finally when I remembered to look, ALL classes in Topeka, Lawrence, Olathe, and Overland Park were either booked or at times when we're out of town or have a major event. Not even kidding. At first, when when I shared this conundrum with #daddydan, I about died laughing. Then reality struck and the tears started to fall. Poor daddy Dan. His response? Unprompted by yours truly, he picks up the phone and starts calling hospitals in a 60 mile radius to ask about birthing classes. Meanwhile, I'm sniffling and wiping snot on his t-shirt (because his t-shirts are the only ones that fit me anymore...cue more tears). #besthusbandever
Itchy Everything: I'm just itchy. Always. Apparently my skin is stretching (??) and a side-effect is itchiness. Not a big deal. Except when you get paid to stand in front of teenagers for 8 hours a day. Let's just say I think I've perfected the art of nonchalant itching. Just don't verify with my co-teachers.
Kankles: I've never been one to have chubby ankles, but now it seems as though they are part of my daily wardrobe. Said ankles are so chubby that some of my socks don't fit. Truth.
Nesting: If baby coconut came tomorrow, he/she would be sharing a room with bags of clothes waiting to be donated/sold, painting supplies, suitcases galore, and enough furniture to fill a small flea market. Dear friends, daddy Dan and I talked through our "must happen before baby coconut arrives" list and we were so overwhelmed that our only reaction was to continue swinging on our newly installed porch swing. About every day I remind myself that nothing that "needs to happen" truly needs to happen. It's going to be okay.
Gender: I have my suspicions about what baby C is, but apparently since my suspicions aren't based in science (aka: sonogram), people don't believe me. Whatever. I will laugh my "told you so" laugh when baby arrives...or I will laugh my "I'm always wrong" chortle. Whichever color baby C comes home in will become my new favorite color, of this I am certain.
Shakira: Just call me Shak because my hips don't lie. Pajama pants that used to be baggy on me are now excessively taut. Supposedly this is because I'm about to push out a head that is in the 99th percentile (quoth the doctor: "you know, the head is the most difficult part to get out." NBD.)(and daddy Dan is still reigning champion of the widest shoulders in McPherson county...you think I kid, but I assure you I could not be more serious). Bring it, baby C. My hips were made for birthing, and that's just what they'll do.
Prayer: My most recent prayer comes from the book that is currently rocking my world - Restless by Jennie Allen (do yourself a favor and read it). I pray that baby C's "soul is steadied and secure because his/her eyes are laser-focused on the one who built and rescued his/her soul." Amen and amen.
31 weeks down. 9 to go. We press on!
