Oh, pretty great, let me tell you. I grunt (loudly) when I bend over and my lower back hurts all the time but all signs point to a healthy baby, I eat a lot but I’ve gained just 15 pounds (which puts me on track for gaining less than 30, exactly what doctors — and every nosy woman over 40 — recommend), and I’m starting to feel like I’ve got a handle on my to-do/to-buy-before-baby list. (We painted the nursery on Saturday a pinky taupe and I am obsessed with how it’s coming together.)
I found a diaper bag I actually love (after obsessing over the search since, oh, week 5), I’ve happily reached DGAF status, as evidenced by the fact that I’m wearing sneakers almost everywhere, and when I think about the birth, I channel Gisele Bundchen in all her obnoxiousness: I believe it will go smoothly, easily even. Except I will do it with drugs.
I’m really looking forward to hibernating with this little alien, introducing her to the weird world of gravity, digestion, and food that must come through the mouth. I’m looking forward to figuring her out, little by little, and eventually becoming the expert on her (not the expert on babies, mind you — just an expert on one. Until she goes and changes and I need to figure it all out again).
I’m really looking forward to my maternity leave, specifically my plan to spend a month with my parents at their condo near the beach in Santa Barbara; Gena will be doing her senior year at UCSB; my sweet aunt, uncle, and cousins live in town; M. (and hopefully Zoe!) will come for 10 days or so over Christmas and New Year’s; and our California friends will hopefully come visit for a day or a weekend (you’d better).
I get anxious and obsess over dumb stuff — stuff that has nothing to do with the baby, not really. It keeps me up at night (I’m convinced that all that extra blood flowing through your veins — the source of the pregnancy glow — overstimulates your brain). I wish I was more fun for my sister this summer — oh god what I wouldn’t give to get stupid drunk, just once — but the truth is when I have a second to spare I just want to lie the fuck down.
As for M., I’m amazed by how our relationship has evolved in the past year. We’ve been together for more than five and a half years, but we’ve done more learning and growing in the past 12 months than all the others combined. He is not a ‘natural’ father, I think he would be the first to agree, but he will make a great one. And he tells me all the time that he has always known I would make a wonderful mother, which is something I need to hear.
Even though — forgive my lack of modesty — I know I will be. I just do.