I was going back and forth about getting a new rocking chair for the baby’s room. On the one hand, the green plush chair we have is perfectly good and I’ve rocked both of my babies in it. On the other hand, I didn’t want to take it away from Annabel since she and I sit in it every night for story time. But, Annie heard Mike and me discussing the chair dilemma and shocked us both by saying she wanted her baby brother to have it. “I will sit in it and read him stories every night!”

I wanted to do something for her to take the place of the chair – something special, since there are a lot of changes in the house right now. So I came up with the idea of a “Fairy Reading Tent.” I’m not really sure why I went with “fairy” other than I just needed something that wasn’t princess, and it sounds fancy and fun to a three-year-old. Plus, I wanted to emphasize reading, because she loves being read to and I always want her to love books and stories.

When I was at Ikea a few weeks ago, I found the perfect gauzy-tent-like-thingy (that’s its official Ikea name, those crazy Swedes). With that and a few new pillows and a bunch of old ones, plus an old down comforter and a handful of blankets, it’s the perfect cozy spot to curl up with some books.

Annie looooooves it and spent hours in it yesterday, flipping through the pages of books. We told her that it was her own very special place, and no one was allowed in it without an invitation from Annabel herself. It’s not the easiest little corner for me to sit in right now (Mike had to help me up on more than one occasion), but it was worth it to cuddle with Annie. I told her we’d get some pretty (fake) flowers and attach them to the tent if she wanted, but she seems content with it just the way it is. In fact, she said, “I can’t wait to show this to my baby brother!” That makes two of us.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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No matter how tired I am after a long day of gestating, this girl can always make me smile.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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Annie’s reaction makes me wish I’d used the Doppler sooner.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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And wave them ’round like you just don’t care!

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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I have countless reasons to hate it:

~ At last measurement, it was 49 inches around. I am only 63 inches tall.

~ My back hurts and my ribs ache in a way I cannot adequately describe…almost a burning, crackly feeling.

~ It itches constantly.

~ It looks okay head-on, but the sides are covered in painful bruises and puncture wounds from my shots.

~ It functions like a small heater, which is especially problematic when it is 100 degrees outside (like it has been all week).

Oh, and it’s always in the way.

A slightly obstructed view.

But still, I like it. I like how round, yet pointy, it is. I like that for the last thirty-six weeks, I haven’t had to suck it in. The bigger my belly gets, the more confident I am in the way I look. And of course, I like that it has managed to keep The Acrobat safely inside for thirty-six weeks.

Annabel loves to rub, kiss, and hug my belly, and I love those sweet moments. She’s showing affection for her brother, but I get to reap the benefits.

Sometime in the next few weeks, my belly will deflate, and I’ll be back to sucking it in, camouflaging it, and generally ignoring its existence. I won’t miss having this gigantic belly, but I’m not going to hate these remaining days with it.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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There was a little drama after the guy dropped off the dumpster. Heather wasn’t at home at the time – she was at her appointment with Dr. Risky – and when I called her to say it had arrived, she asked, “Did you open it up and go inside?”

“Uh, I don’t think it opens up,” I replied.

“Of course it does. How else are you supposed to get stuff inside of it?”

“I think you, uh, just throw it over the top.”

“What if you were throwing out a refrigerator? You think they expect you to just throw that over the top, too?”

“Uh…”

“If it doesn’t open up you need to call the guy and have him switch it out!”

“I’ll call you back,” I blurted out, then ran outside to look at the contraption. It took me a few minutes to figure it out, but, yeah, it totally opened. Obviously I’m a little green when it comes to these dumpster things.

Annie, of course, had to go inside once I got it open. She was excited at first, but then it suddenly croaked under her feet and she wanted out. That was for the best since dumpsters are no place for a kid to play in.

I joke that Heather is a step away from being on that show, Hoarders, but truthfully she isn’t anywhere close to being that bad. She just hates to throw things out because in her eyes they either have sentimental value (“I wore that shirt on our fourth date!”), or are something she thinks she could use again (“Wait! I could still use that wrapping paper!” “It says ‘Happy New Year 2006,’ Heather.”)

Anyway, I soon got to work in the garage, and would bring items to Heather to get the okay on tossing them out.  Since she hates to let go of stuff, I had to sell it a little:

“So I found this sweater stuffed in the corner of the garage under a cobweb. When I picked it up a gigantic black widow spider crawled out of the sleeve, and I’m pretty sure it left behind thousands of baby black widow spider eggs. I can throw this out, right?”

“Put it in the maybe pile.”

Eventually – thankfully – Heather got the hang of it, and we started to clear things out at a good clip. It didn’t take long, though, for me to understand why Heather is so reticent to throw things out. Hidden in a stack of documents in the garage I found this:

In the early days of Maddie’s NICU stay a nurse suggested we bring in a photo of our family so that Maddie would always be able to see us. The next day we brought in this photo (taken on our wedding day), and the nurse affixed it to Maddie’s isolette in this sanitary baggy. This photo is what Maddie stared at for the next sixty-eight days, and when she was finally discharged, the nurse sent it home with us.

Holding this photo in my hands after so long made my heart stop, and brought back so many memories of those difficult days. I could see myself holding Maddie next to her isolette, rocking her in my arms as I played this Beatles’ Lullabies CD I’d bought for her. We spent every afternoon together that way, and it was one of the ways we first bonded.

I took the photo inside and placed it in our keepsake box. Not everything needs to be thrown out, after all. We have the dumpster until next Tuesday, and we’ll pull a full court press this weekend. I want the home to be perfect for our baby boy, you know, before it gets cluttered up again with all of his stuff.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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I’m not sure her dad would agree, however.

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In the waiting room at Dr. Risky’s office yesterday, I noticed that a lot of people were looking at me. At first I thought it was the, “Holy Crap She’s About To Pop” look, but then I realized it was the “OMG THERE IS SOMETHING MOVING IN THERE” stare. The Acrobat was particularly wiggly when I sat down and was doing full-body shifts, and the dress I was wearing did a great job of amplifying his every movement. A few minutes later, when I was on the exam table, Dr. Risky’s nurse was standing over me to measure my fundal height when The Acrobat performed a move that could only have been a jumping jack and she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness! That looked like it hurt!”

Yes. Yes, it did.

My appointment yesterday signaled the beginning of the end. I had my Strep B test, and Dr. Risky and I discussed tapering off some of my drugs. I’m done with blood thinner #1 (aspirin), but I still have a few more days blood thinner #2 (lovenox injection). It’s a relief to be off the aspirin since it takes about five to seven days to get out of your system, and since I had Annabel in my thirty-sixth week of pregnancy I am a bit nervous. I desperately want to be awake for my c-section, and if I go into labor before all the blood thinners are out of my system, I have to be put under general anesthesia. Luckily, the shots are out of my system in 24 hours. It’s a tricky balance because it’s risky being off the blood thinners, but you know…I want to be awake. I will continue to trust Dr. Risky, and also listen to my body. The night before Annabel was born, I didn’t give myself a shot because I felt…off. Thank goodness I followed my instincts that night.

All my pregnancy complications are also starting to make going further into pregnancy less desirable, for lack of a better word. My personal goal for this pregnancy is a week from yesterday, when The Acrobat will be the same gestational age Annabel was when she was born. Ideally, I’d love to carry him as long as he needs (and I’d really love to finally be able to say I carried a baby to term), but Dr. Risky’s goal is looking like something in the 37-38 week range. Next week I have an amnio scheduled to check The Acrobat’s fetal lung maturity, and depending on how that comes back I could have a baby “any time after that,” according to Dr. Risky.

So. I could have a baby as soon as next week. Whaaaaaaaaaaaat. I need to pack. I need a crib. I need a name.

Get in those last jumping jacks, little boy. You’re getting evicted soon.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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Somewhere between toddler and little girl.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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I’m trying to make sure I do all the things for The Acrobat that I did for Annabel…like this:

Still as impressively, terrifyingly painful as it was with Annabel.

I have a lot of guilt because I am not feeling joyful.  I worked hard over the last thirty-five-plus weeks to not get stressed out, and it had the unfortunate side effect of leaving me feeling…detached. A year ago today I found out I’d miscarried, leaving my pregnancy track record less-than impressive. I’ve kept my heart guarded since then, but now that I’m so close to the end I wish I could open it up. Instead, a pregnancy’s worth of stress is slamming me and I’m just hoping that the moment I see him all of this will melt away.

I tell myself that I don’t have to enjoy this time to be grateful. I am allowed to hate every remaining moment of the pregnancy if I need to, and then be happy when he’s born. (I do need to come to grips with the fact that this is happening and pack a frigging hospital bag already!) But I don’t need to enjoy pregnancy to love my baby. I really wish pregnancy agreed with me, but it doesn’t and I can’t have guilt about it anymore.

So while I really do like feeling The Acrobat wiggle inside me (or, more accurately, tenderize my innards), I’m not going to be sad when this is over. I want to see this baby and get my heart and mind back.

Peace out, pregnancy. I will not miss you.

© copyright Heather Spohr 2013 | All rights reserved.

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