According to the books, baby weighs around 3 pounds and measures between 14 and 17 inches in length. Lately I’ve noticed he is developing a sleeping pattern that he will apparently keep after he’s born. This is very disheartening at 6am when I feel swift jabs in my side. Go back to sleep!
It’s crazy, only a mere nine or ten week of pregnancy stand between me and Baby Baer’s arrival and yet if you came to visit, you wouldn’t think I was having any sort of baby at all. I have not one diaper, not one outfit, not even a car-seat—the very first item one needs when having a baby. It’s disconcerting, especially when the books also state it is during this time that I should be nesting and making sure everything is set for when the baby comes home. So far the only thing I’ve done is set aside a box in the storage closet that I think he could sleep in. I’m not kidding.
Last week I called my mother in a panic over this lack of preparedness and she reminded me that I have things, they are just stored elsewhere. Okay, but I want to see it. I can’t see it. And what if he comes tomorrow? What then? He has no clothes, no socks, no bed, no diapers! Poor destitute baby. Austin seems unaffected by our seemingly non-baby environment, responding with patronizing pats to my head and assurance that we’ll all be just fine.
The rational part of me knows that plenty of babies sleep in dirt, which makes me wonder if nesting is rooted in nature or culture. It’s conceivable that the idea has been placed in my mind by others. I certainly do want to be prepared, but realistically I know that he’ll be just fine regardless of whether or not I’ve got the two tons of baby gear that will (and has started to) accumulate at my parent’s house.
When panic does seize my mottled mind, I try to take steps to reassure myself. Like, for instance, taping this list of things to take to the birthing center when labor commences. It helps me feel somewhat prepared.
I’ve also asked Mom to take home our electronic piano so we can replace it with some sort of temporary bed. We’ll see if I can come up with something better than a box.
Speaking of feeling better, I used some of my parents’ birthday money last week to give my feet a much needed makeover. This simple pleasure lifted my spirits quite a bit, especially the part where my feet were being rubbed for 15 minutes (heaven). It also allows me to look at them without being fully disgusted at their size.
30 Weeks. 3/4ths done. Bring it on.