After 6 extra growth scans,
After 3 glucose level blood tests,
After 40 weeks of monitoring for preeclamsia, gestational diabetes, and other "weight related" problems in pregnancy...

I am no longer considered high risk.

I have been labeled as normal.

Not only am I "allowed" to labour in the pool, I am allowed to deliver there as well.

What a struggle for recognition this has been.

Ripe

The pears are falling off the trees.

The apples turn a bright red that is caught in the corner of your eye when you walk through the orchards.
And after 6 months of anxiety over poor user instruction... our green house is finally built. All that is left is to have our baby.

2 Weeks to Go!

*Something strange is going on with Blogger today. Sorry about the font issues. I don't have the energy to go through the html to figure it out.

I have slipped into the fake lament that most bloggers slip into prior to major life events. Specifically birthing. Perhaps it is the exploitation and narcissism that blogging promotes (I love it!) that seems to cut against the grain of a very private, yet very human universal experience, that shuts us down from wanting to communicate. What ever the reason my introspection has been limited to patterns such as this:

Oh look, my belly is moving- aw, it is because we have a little girl in there- one day she will hit puberty- barf

In a few weeks we will have a baby- barf

Look at these cute little pants hanging on the line- I can’t believe I have a child inside of me that will one day be out and fit into them- barf

What if I totally fuck this kid up- what if I totally rock- my face has a zillion pimples on it- I am only glowing because of the sheen of oil on my nose- I feel like I have another earlobe worth of flesh hanging out my butt with this new hemorrhoid- we are getting a new drier- our daughter weighs 6.5 pounds already- barf

So the other day I decided to take the muslin cloths (a thin piece of cloth that is used for baby barf, snuggling, bibs, num nums, and other misc. things I have no idea about because I am not yet a mum) and learn how to embroider simple designs on them. It is the most crafty thing I have done in months. It is funny how crafting seemed to have slipped to the bottom of the pile. Crafting and being creative in general. It is really one of the best ways for me to let off some stress.

Okay, so I am sitting here now, with the most disjointed post known to my blog. My feet are swollen beyond recognition to the point where they are painful to move, the skin under my right breast is numb, the house is a mess and the in laws are on their way (they just called) to see our space for the first time since we got together. I should go.

I should clean.

Perhaps I will just craft.

Whew...

She turned!

We all have our moments...

One thing about being pregnant that I have completely embraced is a sense of entitlement. I am bringing life into the world and soon enough, so I am told, that life is going to control a lot of my own. For now, I am still autonomous. Hormonal, opinionated, and entitled!

Today I went shopping in a large supermarket. Unlike the bliss of Canadian and American supermarkets, there is no need to provide public toilets in public buildings here in the UK. So after spending a chunk of money, I waddled up to the customer service desk and asked if I could use their bathroom.

“We don’t have a public bathroom.”

“I know, but I am 8 and a half months pregnant and I really need to go.”

“You can walk down two blocks to the McDonalds.”

“I think I will go right in the middle of your parking lot.”

She looked at me with her mouth open.


2 blocks to McDonalds... are you kidding me?


I walked out with my groceries, hiked my skirt up around my hips beside my car and peed right there.