Hi all! Yesterday was December 19, which means we are now less than three months from the due date. I think we've hit the third trimester as well (2/3 of the months and 27/40 of the weeks are finished). But, despite logic and solid math, the experts can't seem to agree on exactly when the third trimester starts. What to Expect and Sprout (one of my iPhone apps, yes, one of four) say the third trimester is a go. Baby Center, however, says that the third trimester begins at week 28. I suppose it doesn't matter, and I like hitting goals, so I'm telling people I'm in the third trimester. But perhaps I should give myself the extra week, because hitting the third trimester freaks. me. out.
There are no more trimesters. This is it. And I am wholly unprepared for Tater's impending arrival. Yes, I have furniture in the nursery. But there are no cushioned surfaces in the room. Nothing soft on top of the furniture (like a mattress or a changing pad), and thus less than ideal for a baby. I don't even own a diaper. We haven't taken our classes at Prentice (they are all scheduled in January).
Last week Meghan asked me if I'd decided on a birthing plan. I told her that I'd decided on getting an epidural, and asked if that qualified as a plan. Meghan did not seem convinced. Perhaps an epidural is just part of a plan. But I don't know what the other components are. I just assumed that birth plans are for those who are going a non-traditional route. And I've already ruled out things like home birth, water birth, squatting birth, birth without an OB/GYN. No judgment here, just a big fan of modern medicine and adjustable hospital beds and not a big fan of pain. But I should look into this. Perhaps that will be my light reading over the holiday break.
I'm confident that by the end of January I'll be in much better shape. Schooled on infants, birth plan aware, stocked upon supplies and necessities. So what's the big deal? The end of January is WAY sooner than March 19.
The big deal is that I have a new worry. Hitting week 27 also meant reaching the good viability milestone -- Tater stands a decent chance of survival if he decides to show up ahead of time. Which means I'm less worried about losing Tater. Happy! But I'm increasingly worried about an early delivery (which could happen) or accidentally squeezing Tater out (which could not happen). I'm not kidding. I have this totally irrational fear every time I sneeze, cough, pee, laugh jovially, etc., that I am going to trigger Tater's exit. It's even worse when one of those things happens while I'm standing up (n/a to peeing, of course). My brain is being ridiculous.
Know what is also ridiculous? My boobs. I realized today that I have cleavage. Many years ago, I had something bordering on cleavage. But then I lost weight, in some places more than other. I still remember bringing home a bag full of pretty new bras in the size I'd worn since high school and showing them my then-roommate and fabulous friend Hallie. Hallie, with her syrupy South Carolina accent, gently said, "Darlin', I hate to tell you this, but you are no longer a B-cup." That was in 2001. For nine years, my boobs remained at bay. Not once did I fret about showing too much skin in the chest area, because there wasn't much to look at. But today I was wearing a v-neck maternity top and when I glanced at myself in the mirror at work, I found the shirt borderline indecent. Woohoo! I've been forewarned by a friend who recently gave birth that my boobs will morph into weeping alien rock formations when Tater arrives. So I'll enjoy this change while I can. And I'll start doing a decency check before walking out the door during the work week.
Oh boy. Boyz II Men is singing with Committed on The Sing Off finale. Brad wants Tater to pay close attention, as Tater is expected to love two things immediately and unconditionally: owls and Boys II Men. Gotta run.
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