A Deep Breath - 33 Weeks

 I had my 32 week ultrasound last week and everything looks good. Clark weighs 4.2 pounds and has hair and chubby little cheeks.

His femur length is just a bit short, but other than that, the placenta looks good, his head size looks good, his heartbeat looks good...it just all looks good.

So why don't I feel more reassured? I have moved on from the idea that he could come too early and now my nightmares are about stillbirth. My husband shares my fears. He won't get out of bed in the morning until Clark kicks at his hand. I am stopping my work several times a day to consciously note a kick or a push or a job - anything that will create a milestone for myself so when I have a moment of "when was the last time I felt him?" I can answer my own question.

In "normal pregnancy news," I can report a lot of pressure on my cervix and the nerves in my legs. I passed the glucose tolerance test but found I have a vitamin D deficiency.  I am nesting and I know it.

If my choppy writing style is making you dizzy, know that it is also a condition of my pregnancy. My brain is fried. I can't focus - to the point where I left my cell phone at home today and last week I made toast and forgot to eat it. I'm never hungry until I start eating and then I just can't get enough food. I crave milk, but only very fresh, very cold milk or I can't tolerate it. Everything gives me heartburn. I am exhausted ALL THE TIME.

Clark's room is nearly done - just the details to work out with artwork and storage. We have enough "stuff" that if he came tomorrow, we could work it out.

My baby shower was really quite lovely after all. Everyone behaved themselves - even the weepy auntie who loves to shower us with her aggressive condolences and the somewhat surly auntie who projects a thinly-veiled ideal that my grief is about getting attention. My mother-in-law's talents were displayed perfectly with wonderful food and baked goods. There were about 25 people there and it was just small enough for my comfort zone.

So that's that - 33 weeks and little emotional comfort. I have a room full of baby stuff planned for one special little man in December. But I just can't shake the thought that this can't be true, it can't be happening, and I can't help but wonder what comes next. 

Nesting or Hoarding, You Decide - 32 weeks

Interesting thing about me: I am a hoarder.

No, no, no, not like that TV show with people who live with stuff falling on them and mice chewing at their hair at night. See, when I had my daughter seven years ago, my grandmother was very excited. She bought enough clothing for two little girls every chance she got - great stuff - all the best brands.

I kept nearly every single piece of this clothing. No joke. I packed it all away in plastic bins with lids and stuffed it in the loft space above my garage and there it has stayed - seven years of hoarded clothing.

What if I had another daughter? Why would I give away the things my grandmother was so happy to provide?

I had made the decision to get rid of it all about two years ago. I was pregnant with John and sure I wasn't having any more children, so why keep 15 bins of girl clothes? But then my husband broke his ankle and John died and then grandma died. I couldn't let the stuff go.

Perhaps this story is a bit of a lie to myself. At some point I became scared to touch these bins. Who was to know how I would feel about these clothes, what memories they would show, what grief they would kick up? So I simply left that stuff up there.

Last week my Brother In Law climbed the ladder to the loft and dropped down each bin. I went through it all this week - one bin at a time - sorting out what to keep and what to donate, what to give to my best friend's daughter and what goes to the consignment store. Of the 15 bins, I am only keeping ONE bin of clothing - special sweaters, dresses, things like that.

One of the reasons this process is easier than I expected is my photography hobby. I have THOUSANDS of photos of Emily in all her best outfits - often with Grandma in the pictures. Having those photos is just as good as having the actual clothes - better even in a lot of ways. Of course I had a few weepy moments, but overall the purge of the hoard has been very, very good for me. After all that stuff goes where it needs to go, I can start sorting through basement stuff and get that all organized and together - and then maybe my house will be organized and I will feel like I can have this baby with less chaos than I expect.

Because I expect either total disaster or complete chaos. Or both.