38

Today is Tuesday and this is my first official day off work. I finished on Saturday and when I put my finished document onto the server I cried a little. I wasn't even sure why because I couldn't pinpoint how I felt. I just knew I'd completed my final assignment for a year's time. Technically I'm on vacation until March 1, and then my maternity leave really begins, but the effect is the same. I'm home, as usual, and not at my work computer (Unusual).

And this is all well and good because sitting at my computer makes my feet swell up like hot water bottles. Yes, I've reached that stage. I'm 38 weeks tomorrow and various other body parts have started to fail me in small ways. My feet don't hurt, per se, though they certainly are uncomfortable. When you press fingers into them, there's actually an indent. The Dude has been massaging them nightly, which makes me feel both like a grateful wife and also that it's really the least he can do.

Our nursery is pretty well set to go, minus this item, which is en route in the mail via allposters.com.

Tell me this isn't the cutest thing ever, like ever.

At this point, I'm really keen to do things with friends. I can't be making long-term plans, nor can I leave town at this point (Well, I can, but my luck would have me going into labour). However, I can do dinner, coffee and Sunday night we threw our annual Oscar party. It's nice to socialize, still free of responsibility. I also want to see a movie or two. The only thing I'm a little bitter on is that we might well miss The Book Of Mormon on stage. It's all sold out (Unsurprising since it's only from April 30 to June 9), and if they don't increase their run, it'll leave the city and that'll be that.

It's astonishing how fast motherhood is approaching me. The birth tub is getting delivered this Sunday (So at this point, I really hope I don't go into labour. Not only is Matt not off until March 9th, but I want my tub, dagnabbit). I have my in-home midwife appointment this Saturday. Strangely my main concern  through all of this is that my water will break while I'm on the couch. Not out in public, but on my nice new couch.

At my last midwife appointment I learned I was about 157 pounds. I think I misread previous scale readings because supposedly my weight hadn't budged in a month from 148. I started at 126. 22 pounds isn't unreasonably small, but it was bizarre to me that a month could pass without me gaining anything when I was clearly getting bigger.

But let me tell you, reading that sudden increase freaked me out. It had only been a week since my previous appointment so this apparent 9-pound gain was only over a week. That's the sort of thing that can make your average weight-conscious North American woman shit a brick.

It occurs to me that the vast majority of my blogging has surrounded my pregnancy. Somewhere along the line, I became a themed blogger. I always had focused on life stuff, musings about getting older and nearing 30. But it never really was a theme for all that. Now it's sort of a Pregnancy Sucks and Here's My Cute Nursery blog. Well, turns out when you're gestating a new life, it's damn hell ass hard to find other things to write about, especially considering new crazy bojangles are happening to your body all the time and your life no longer follows a discernable pattern. Every week it's new.

I used to have dreams I was stuck in stations and airports and unable to catch my flights, or that I was in a hotel and people were getting in my way and I couldn't pack things or find my travel documents. Dream journals said this was symbolic of feeling stagnated in life. I haven't had a dream like that since getting pregnant. What I did dream about last night was having quintuplets, four of which were misshapen. One was flattened out. I don't even want to know what that means.