Wednesday, June 24, 2015

4 am thoughts

I'm awake at 4 am, yet again.

This time there is no paperwork crisis in Congo. There just seems to be a food crisis in my belly. I'm starving.

I'd like an Oreo Dream Extreme Cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. The closest one is 3.5 hours away. Who can make that happen for me?

Also, my brain is apparently in always-on mode. Can't turn it off. 

I'm thinking of all the things to get done before Baby Girl gets here, and she is continually reminding me of her growing presence with the kicking and punching of my insides. She prefers the wee hours of the night to stretch her legs, I think.

I'm praying for the adoption issues in DRC. Despite the good rumors we keep hearing, the fact that nothing has actually happened (to the tune of seeing kids united with families in their new home countries) has been weighing heavily on my heart and mind. 

I'm thinking of Clementine and the way she laughed and smiled with her "Papa." (I wrote about her yesterday.)

And I'm being smothered/snuggled by Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Duh (Brody and Brecken), one on each side. (It's cool to be snuggled, just not when I've got this bowling ball attached to my belly and I'm already overheating.)

Speaking of the bowling ball, I've officially made it past the 31-week mark, which is longer than I ever made it with Brecken, who was born right at the 31-week mark. We are in unchartered pregnancy waters, my friends. (My water broke at 29 weeks, so if you want to get technical I have been in unchartered pregnancy waters--he he, pardon the pun--since June 14.)

I was given a goal at my last checkup: 34 weeks. "Anything past that is a bonus," said my doctor. I took that to be the green light in my delivering at 34 weeks and 1 day. (Have I mentioned that I, personally, am not a huge fan of this pregnancy stuff? That's not to say I'm not incredibly grateful to be carrying this baby--I know there are soo, soo many people who would die to be in this position, and I was one of them once, too--I'm just saying these feelings of immobility, instability, inflexibility, and constant caution are not my favorite feelings.)

Of course, just because I'm not a fan of the feelings associated with pregnancy, that doesn't mean I will do anything to actually TRY to have Baby Girl any sooner than God is ready to get her out of there. I don't mess with that stuff, and I've learned that I can't control it even if I want to. (Oh, such hard lessons learned there.)

In this unchartered territory, I'm thinking about new things, things I didn't get a chance to think of with Brecken. 

Packing a hospital bag, for instance. With Brecken, I had NOTHING ready, nothing packed. I went to the hospital thinking they would send me back home. Instead, I stayed 12 days (and Brecken stayed much longer).

According to some packing lists, I should make sure I have enough stuff to live in a forest by myself for 5 weeks: Snacks, five changes of clothes, pocket knife, witch hazel, Vaseline, hair spray, shampoo and conditioner, six nursing bras, a breast pump, a pillow and sheets, two night gowns, pictures of my home, three pairs of shoes, a sewing kit, magazines, a journal, 22 hair ties, and athletic tape.

Let me reiterate this to you: I brought nothing and was there for 12 days. If you are stressing about fitting all of that junk into your bag, I assure you that you will be fine with the bare minimum. The hospital has virtually everything you will ever need, except maybe a comfy outfit and makeup that matches your skin tone. 

Secondly, the "birth plan." Let me tell you about my birth plan: Give me that epidural, please and thanks. And if I'm going to be specific about it, let's make it quick, Dr. McDreamy. (Did I ever tell you about the time Brad had a man-crush on my anesthesiologist?) I don't need music, or chants, or five hundred people in my room (like last time). I want Brad and my anesthesiologist (for the epidural, not because he was pretty). Also, maybe some hard math problems and a document or two to edit. For some reason, focusing on something academic seems extremely appealing to me during the time period before getting an epidural. Could be because it helps me focus on the solvable math and grammar problems rather than the pain of my insides ripping into a million pieces. To you natural-birth girls...good work. I bow down to you in defeat in this, the first painful task of biological motherhood. 

And this concludes my blog post at 4 am. Because it's now 5 am.