I got a picture. So I shouldn't complain about the quality of the picture. Because I got a picture...
My ideal scenario for this week's What I Wore Sunday was a pic of me in a hospital gown holding baby girl. Since that didn't happen, I consoled myself with the thought that perhaps this would be the very last time I would have to wear this outfit during this pregnancy. I love it but I'm ready to move on.
All Old Navy maternity and I've been able to wear the shirt and skirt for 6 months. Very comfy and reasonably priced. I'm also wearing $2 flip flops from Old Navy but you can't see them in the photo.
There are a couple admissions that I have to make on this lovely Sunday:
#1 ... It took a monumental act of will to get myself out of bed, dressed, and to Mass this morning. The fact that I got a photo for the blog on top of that is slightly astonishing. My will power had a 4-year old melt down and I thought things like "I cannot go today... no way." I just felt so... pregnant. And tired. And icky. So I had to laugh when I went to wake up 2-year old Cub and he, being extremely verbal for his age, told me plainly: "I'm not going with you today." Too funny. We did both go to Mass.
#2 ... Once we got to Mass, I was fine and the kids were all fine. Everyone behaved beautifully just like they almost always do. There's a link-up that some blog moms are doing where they grade the kids on Sunday behavior. I haven't done it (I can't recall even where it's being hosted) because my kids almost always have "A" behavior once they are over the age of 18 months or so. That's just the way it is. They might get an A minus once in a while but I'm not going to come here and record that. Now that a new baby is coming we will certainly have a year or so of behavioral shake-up... but it'll smooth out eventually. I feel a little even guilty making this admission publicly since so many struggle, but discipline at Mass has been something we've actually been pretty good at in general.
I have been desperately fighting pregnancy related illness for the last week or so. The baby is so low that the pressure really gets to me. I have been fighting waves of nausea and feeling like I'm going to pass out with some regularity. I don't even feel like reading most of the time... just want to close my eyes and fast forward to the babe-in-arms phase. Frequently heard by my patient husband: I feel soooo awful. I don't even know what to doooo with myself.
I am only writing this post because I'm willing it, not wanting it. As soon as I'm done, I'm going to try to convince Cub to go to bed early and let the others watch a video while I do nothing. Nothing at all.
I've also been cranky. Really cranky. The lights bother me. Noise bothers me. Even hugs are starting to bother me. Food is annoying, too. And heat. And showers. And computers. And all kinds of people and animals and telephone ringers. I'm too hot. I'm too cold.
I had another "time to go to the hospital" moment but I lost confidence in my ability to discern and stayed put. Fortunately for us, I had enough confidence in my lack of confidence to stay home because it came to nothing, once again.
But we're getting close. Really close.
I saw a gorgeous newborn baby girl at Mass today and the grandmother told me all about how well the labor went. She was there but actually missed seeing the delivery because it was so fast. She said: "Yes... one minute she was screaming and crying in pain and the next thing I knew, there was the baby!" Screaming and crying in pain? Please. Just let me see the beautiful little angel baby! No graphic labor descriptions. I spent the majority of this pregnancy dreading labor and now I am begging for it. Just let me walk blindly and desperately forward. No "screaming and crying" descriptives.
To my friends, family, and readers... I have a page full of your intentions to bring with me. Thank you for the opportunity... I won't waste it! I am so grateful for your prayers and support. Baby pics coming soon!