Light at the end of the tunnel

For work reasons, Ben and I both would love it if I could stay pregnant until March 8th. Since this is still 10 days before my "guess date," and Coop was a 41-weeker, I think this is a good goal. Ben has speeches in his comm class, and I have 2 parts of my students' final research paper coming in on Feb 28 and March 7 that I would like to grade before I have a 4th child to juggle.

BUT, I am 37 weeks-- full term!!!!-- on Monday, not 36 like I said last time, so, really, we need to be prepared to have the baby at any moment.

Unlike my last pregnancies, though, I am not in a hurry for this one to end.  I will miss feeling her bounce and kick and roll in there.  I will miss having such a taut stomach (seriously-- it's all jello belly again as soon as she's out).  I will miss the shape of my body and the way even the most lazy task-- lying on the couch eating Taco Bell and reading natural birth books, for example-- feels special because I am also GROWING A PERSON while I do it.

Amazing birth partner (he would reject that label because he is not a guy who wants a doula to feed him a sandwich, and I think he would rather gnaw off his own arm than climb into the birth tub naked like a guy I saw on Baby Story last week) that he is, Ben solved all of my birth fears the other night without even trying.  I looked up from my HypnoBirthing book (which?  really?  surges?  no pain at all?   no pushing? I am going to try these visualization and relaxation techniques because I remember the panicked tensing I would get at the start of every contraction from about 7-10 cm because I knew what was coming, and I do think it would be more comfortable if I could stay relaxed and limp) and asked for reassurance that everything would be all right, and he gave me the weirdest look.  He said he thought I was manufacturing a problem, and I got all pissed off, but then he went on to say that I was so calm and in charge during Cooper's birth and it didn't seem to be a big deal at all (ha! HAHAHA!), so he could not understand my anxiety.  When I realized he wasn't fucking with me, I felt tons better.

He also reminded me of my 2 favorite things about Cooper's birth:  1.  Our nurse thought Ben was extremely NOT FUNNY.  Every time he made a bad joke, she ave him the most awful, withering look.  I forgot about that, but it was delightful even at the time.  When he told me to man up, I thought her head would explode.  2.  When I was all set up and ready to push with the lights on and the bed elevated, I wasn't having a contraction, and it was SO AWKWARD to be lying there with my ass in the face of 2 doctors, who were staring at it under bright lights.  I said, "So, um, what's everybody doing?"  They were shocked that I was making a joke during a med free birth, and I was so proud of myself for having my shit together enough to feel self conscious.  This sounds like an odd hallmark of a successful birth experience, but go with me.

We also want the baby to stay in because THIS GUY, this skeptical little shopper in a taxi cart (we are having some heated double stroller debates-- Cooper freaking hates strollers, but how the hell do you wrangle 2 under 2 w/o a containment device for both?) is going to be a big brother?!

I love how mad he is here-- the neck cords!  All the teeth!  The jazz hand!  The clenched fist!  Even his hair looks pissed off.

It is both terrifying and thrilling that by around this time next month, we will be done with pregnancy, you know?