So Close...

38 Weeks

The mud season
sinks in after
the snow season
and I muck about,
duck-booted,
with his little feet
rolling like ballpoint,
writing from
his Jonah’s prison
on the round red
wall, his small cell,
in salt and sea.
What does he say?

He tallies another day
with a toe tap
against my most
musical rib as he
rocks in my bowl
to tunes playing
on the radio. The crocus
sprout shoots through
the spring goo,
which means time’s
almost served sweet
convict, already so
perfectly pitched
and articulate.

Pregnancy and Fitness

At 38 weeks, I have pretty much stopped going to the gym. I use my in-laws' treadmill and elliptical machine, and I spent the weekend cleaning out my mother's house. So, I'm still moving around and "getting exercise," but I'm not engaged in a fitness regimen. And that's okay.

I'm up 30ish pounds, give or take. Right on track with recommended pregnancy gain. Although, I feel like I can really eat now, which I did not experience much during the rest of the pregnancy. Only now do I have an increased appetite, but I guess Scooter is trying to gain a pound or two before his big debut. After his birth, I will likely keep a food log for a little while, but this is not because I want to be obsessive, it's because *I know* I'm eating with wild abandon, and that will have to be tapered off after the baby comes. I'm enjoying my increased basal metabolic rate, but it won't last forever.

Regarding fitness and pregnancy: In many ways, it's hard to get down with the regular gym visits because no matter how much I put in, I was still going to gain weight. No matter how long I used the elliptical, and no matter how much weight training I still tried to engage in, the belly continued to grow and grow. Vanity is an ugly thing. To my horror, I noticed that my thighs touched. And yet, from behind, you almost can't tell that I'm pregnant. Almost.

But, at the same time, if I had let myself go completely to pot, it would be that much harder to regain fitness and a body I can feel comfortable in. If I'm up thirty pounds, and I can lose half of that in that first 6 weeks of post-partum, then I only have an extra fifteen pounds to shed after that. Sounds reasonable.

A fit body without extra weight moves around better. I feel these extra thirty pounds in my feet and back. As vanity goes, the benefit of having a body I can feel comfortable in leads to enough confidence that I doesn't need to focus on the negative aspects of living in a body that's uncomfortable physically, emotionally, and psychologically. That kind of simple confidence can free me up to concentrate on other things. So, it's worth pursuing a fit figure post-partum.

Additionally, in a relationship that is partially built on physical attraction, it's worth staying attractive to your partner. I won't "let myself go" and neither will Michael.

Cord Blood Registry

We have decided to bank Scooter's cord blood. We're considering it as an insurance policy. As a just-in-case.

We don't expect anything to be wrong with him. We don't expect him to get sick. We don't expect him to experience a catastrophic brain injury.

But...what would a parent pay to heal their child? And what will cord blood be able to do in a decade?

In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb

The March weather has been volatile. It was sixty and sunny this weekend, and today it is cold and raining with a little wintery mix to keep things interesting. March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb, and speaking of out like a lamb...

Just about 38 weeks now, and I'm finally experiencing the discomforts of pregnancy. Lucky me. Sore back: check. Rings no longer fitting my fingers: check. Swollen sinuses: check. Tired-pregnant-lady-walk: check. Difficulty transitioning from sitting to standing: check. My belly-button, were it a turkey timer, has popped. The baby is done. He can come out now. Although...

I haven't finished nesting yet!

I haven't finished his baby blanket!

I need to do one more submission blitz!

I need to get caught up on my friends' writing!

I have to get caught up on my blog!

I have to read "Housekeeping!"

My due date is just over two weeks away. I have to get started on my to-do before I'm due list.

The Latest Things That Have Made Me Cry

Don McLean made me cry.
A squirrel roadkill made me cry.
An episode of House made me cry.
My sister's stupid puppy made me cry.

All in about two days. Awesome...

5 more limericks

My baby will soon be blessed
To feed from his mommy’s breast
My boobs a food source
As a matter of course
Milk and love to be expressed.

A knocked-up girl from Monroe
Sought fame which seemed apropos
Although not her plan
Once her labor began
She was the star of her own bloody show.

Labor stories are meant to scare
Though I’m pregnant with nary a care
My water may break
While I’m out having steak
But the chance is medium-rare.

A baby bump is very impressive
When circumference becomes quite excessive
To get around your gut
And clean up your butt
With T.P. you must be aggressive.

I prefer my skin smooth and bare
Sleek legs with no public hair
But I’m shaped like a keg
I can’t reach my legs
And I guess there’s a pussy down there?

Pregnancy Limericks

I've been writing three limericks a day, and I plan to keep this up until Scooter is born. Below are the ones I have so far. Some are better than others. Getting the meter right with limericks is the tricky part:

There was a young woman named Sonia
Who feasted on Cake and Lasagna
Her belly got big
As she supped like a pig
But she was pregnant, so folks said “Good on ya!”

There was a young lady from Kent
Who enjoyed rough sex with her gent
But then she got prego
He fertilized her eggo
And sex became gentle, less bent.

Significantly pregnant Ms. Mabel
Was in labor but mentally stable
"An enema!" and a curse
she spat at the nurse
She hated to poop on the birthing table.

Sonia lives someplace quite rural
And likely will get an epidural
People say pain is right
When you labor all night
But Sonia doesn’t give a flying squirrel.

There was a young wife from Ipswitch
Whose labor was a terrible bitch
Pain she couldn’t bare
She felt her parts tear
Still she asked for the “husband stitch!”

There was a little fetus named Scooter
Whose in utero pic couldn’t be cuter
In Vegas conceived
His parents perceived
His daddy must be a straight shooter!

There was a girl from Leicester
Well into her third trimester
She cleaned with great feeling
Even scrubbed down the ceiling
Not a bird, but still quite a nester.

Pregnancy seems like forever
30 pounds of sheer endeavor
No brie and no drinks
That part really stinks
But I suck it up and say, yeah, whatever…

Squeezing out my baby's head
Fills me with a sense of dread
Will I squeeze mainland China
Through the hole in my vagina
or is he Luxembourg instead?