You're full term, sucker.
January 22, 2012
© Amanda Jo Greep
I’ve been looking forward to today for some time. Today, I am considered “full-term.” Now that it has arrived, nothing has really changed but there is a certain peace of mind to being here.
If Boo were to arrive this evening, s/he would not be premature and I could stay home to birth my baby, as planned, rather than go to a hospital. And that’s a milestone to be happy about. Odds are s/he is ready to come at any point between now and February 26 (42 weeks), although – like most pregnant women – I am desperately hoping I don’t get anywhere near 42 weeks. My first child arrived at 39w3d and second-timers “usually” go earlier (and have shorter labors), so I’ve got my fingers crossed on several fronts.
Of course, there are no guarantees in life, so I could find myself talking induction 5 weeks from now and/or stuck in a grueling 2-day labor at some point in the near future, but let’s not let our minds wander there, shall we?
Along with official “full-term” status has come a certain level of new discomforts. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like my mind knows that we’ve hit a somewhat arbitrary calendar milestone and is sending the news to my body.
I woke up this morning totally exhausted, which was weird considering I’d gone to bed fairly early and gotten a full night’s sleep. I spent the morning sort of lumbering about, trying to find the motivation to get moving on the day, but it just wasn’t happening. My husband finally talked me into the shower and then, while he was getting the toddler dressed in her winter gear so we could head out on a family shopping trip, I nearly fell asleep in a kitchen chair. Wearing my winter coat, scarf, boots, & hat.
He offered to take her out on his own and leave me behind to rest, but I thought some fresh air might do me good. And, in the end, it did. Once we got moving, I was in pretty good shape, but when we returned home two hours later, I felt like I’d climbed Mt. Everest.
I swear I was not this ridiculous yesterday.
I ordered some take-out for lunch (holy hamburger craving!) and once it arrived, I ate it as quickly as humanly possible then made a bee-line straight for the bed. Two hours later, I woke up. Still exhausted.
All right, all right. I hear you, body. I’m full-term. The next few weeks are among the hardest to slog through. I GOT THE MESSAGE. Now lay off a little, wouldya?
Tonight, my goal is to get to bed early (i.e. before midnight, for once) and see what tomorrow brings. The kid has preschool in the morning, so I’ll get a break there, though I’ve got my own appointment with an acupuncturist while she’s out so I won’t be able to lay on the couch and groan – which is all I really want to do these days. But I know the fresh air, exercise, and appointment are all good for me, so I’m trying to keep my outlook positive.
I’m healthy. Boo is healthy. And we’ve made it to homestretch, together. Who’s complaining?