(*My girlfriends sent me a message on Facebook with that very greeting. Aw.)
Good Lord. Today is 36 weeks. I am officially nine months pregnant. Aside from growing my hair, school, (and a stint living in Montreal), I’ve never done anything this difficult, for this long, in my life. 😀 I wanted to take another selfie to commemorate the occasion, but honestly, I’m feeling like I’ve got a watermelon strapped to my frame, and not at all very photogenic at the moment.
So instead, here’s a picture of a watermelon-as-baby.
I’m horrified, but I can’t. stop. laughing.
Oh, and speaking of watermelon, these:
Come on. SO cute. Much better than that thing I posted above.
I know this was a disappointing post. I’m sorry. I usually dislike when my favourite bloggers post nonsensical shit like this (assuming that I am one of your favourite bloggers). Never mind. I have a few posts in the works, so you’ll hear from me over the next coupla days. I’m feeling prolific; I might as well write while I can. I don’t know if I’ll have any energy at all to do so by next month.
Does it extend across species?
I just read the saddest story in the Huffington Post about a baby elephant in China that was attacked and subsequently abandoned by its mother. The little one cried for five hours (just typing that made me teary-eyed), and the story made me want to gather up this giant baby in my arms and console him.
It was this sentence that started the welling of the wet stuff:
“Photos taken of the crying baby elephant, named Zhuang Zhuang, show tears streaming from his red eyes and down his face. In one shot, he is seen lying under a blanket while he appears to weep.”
The accompanying photo (not the one above) finished me. I couldn’t bear to watch the video.
Generally, I’m a hardass to the human condition, but I’m a big animal-sucky; almost any picture or video of cutelings can set off a series of “awwwwww” from me. And heaven help me if said photo or footage is about abandoned or distressed animals.
On a normal, non-pregnant day, I’m gutted. With all the hormones coursing through my veins lately, I simply cannot.
I really should clean the mirror.
I am huge, I am uncomfortable and I can barely breathe. I’m unable to sleep for more than two to three hours at a time, so I’m exhausted, a little cranky and always hungry. I can’t pee without experiencing Braxton-Hicks, and with my ever-expanding dimensions, simple, daily things like climbing the stairs or washing the dishes leave me breathless. I can’t eat without spillage, as the belly makes it impossible to pull up to the table – no matter how careful I am, I invariably drop something in transit from plate to mouth. Being comfortable in clothes – or in my skin! – seems like a distant memory.
However, with every kick, roll, flutter and turn, I grow more and more excited and curious about the little peanut who still grows inside me. I wonder if she’ll be as active outside as she is in my womb. Will she be a happy baby? Will she be a cuddler? Will she like music? Will she be a sleeper or an eater? Will she be a tiny baby? What will her first cries sound like? I’ve never been so unsure, but also anxious, impatient and thrilled at the prospect of being a mommy. I simply cannot wait for the arrival of the little whirlwind that’s going to change my life forever.
Any day now, Aisha. Any day.
Were it not for Google doodles, I’d be pretty uninformed.
Apparently, Children’s Day was proclaimed by the UN General Assembly in 1954. A globally recognized day, its goal is to promote the welfare of the world’s children – especially those living in poor conditions, or those who have suffered violence, discrimination and exploitation.
It’s fitting, I suppose, as today is also the day that one of my dear friends undergoes her second IVF harvesting. Round one was successful, and the result is an adorable, tiny yet feisty almost-two-year-old by the name of Naomi.
I am praying that the second round is successful. And that the result is a boy-baby. There’s too much estrogen happening among my friends and family (more than 10 little girls in the past two years, compared to a measly three boys). We are in dire need of some penis to make things a little more interesting – and a lot less pink – around here.
The week’s been more down than up, I’m afraid…
rise and shine…
I’ve been getting up and going to be early all week. Suddenly, I can’t find one good reason for staying up past 11pm. Truthfully, I hope it continues. The extra sleep has been soo good for me.
Speaking of sleep, I realized last night that this has been a pretty lonely second trimester. The boy has been working long hours – up at 4:30 and in bed by 8 once he’s had dinner and packed his lunch for the next day. I actually had to text him and tell him how I’m feeling, since we haven’t had much opportunity to talk.
baby show fiasco…
Against my better judgment, I asked the boy to come to the Baby Show with me today. I wanted to look at a few items, get some info on strollers, and maybe find a sling/carrier for Peanut. Also, because we haven’t spent a lot of time together, I thought it might be a nice afternoon, just the two of us. Read more
One good thing about taking little ones out for Hallowe’en: getting to
steal monitor their stash.
Today is Hallowe’en, and someone casually remarked how next year, I’ll have my own adorable little Trick or Treater to wrangle candy from unwitting strangers.
As one who hates the day (the kids are cute, but only the really little ones. I also generally find the hype annoying), this comment made me think about all the other
dreadful activities will I have to participate in because I am now part of the Parents’ Club?
The boy and I already agreed that he would do (translation: take her to) all of the sports-related activities. If she’s in any sort of skating, running around on a field after a ball, or anything that involves waking up super-early or standing out in the cold, he’s on-duty. I volunteered for any sort of Mommy & Me classes, painting, dancing, tumbling, or things that
take place indoors appeal to my artsy side. Read more
These oughta do the trick.
The boy was admitted into hospital today.
His first hernia surgery isn’t until tomorrow morning, but all of the pre-requisite sign-in stuff was today. It was a long process and he’s not the most patient man in the world, so he was a little edgy. I also know it’s because he was nervous. He’s never had surgery before, and he’ll be at the facility for a week (we opted to go private to get a faster appointment, as opposed to waiting until November thru public health). After he was shown his room and unpacked his stuff, we took a walk around.
It’s completely beautiful, like a spa for men. Beautiful grounds with fruit trees, benches, a mini-putting green…you would never believe that just a kilometre out there’s a busy road and non-stop traffic. There are two shifts of visiting hours: 4-6 and 7-9PM, and since I was with him during the second shift, we did a little jailbreak and headed out to McDonald’s to grab a bite and enjoy our time together until lockdown.
He goes for surgery #1 tomorrow morning at eight. He gave me a Big Mac-flavoured kiss goodbye as I promised to come see him in the afternoon.
He’ll be all right.
He has to be.