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“WHAT is up with your weight?” the nurse said when she came into the exam room yesterday. It was my 39 week appointment and the OB had had to run out to an emergency c-section, so I was just seeing the nurse instead of the OB.

“I don’t know!” I wailed.

“You were coming along totally normally until a few weeks ago. Then you shot up six pounds, up five more, down six, and now you’re up six again. Have you been doing anything lately?”

“No… I think it’s water weight. Dr. Hazy said I have a lot of edema.”

“Your blood pressure is fine, though…” she pondered. She put me on the table, measured the baby, and poked me a bit.

“Well, your baby is taking up a lot of room, but he’s not unusually large or anything. Your uterus is measuring right within expected limits. Your ankles ARE swollen, but I’ve seen way worse. I guess the swelling does go up your legs, too…”

“It’s all over,” I whined. “I haven’t been able to wear my rings for months. My watch digs in – look – I couldn’t wear a pair of shoes that used to be way too big for me, and even my maternity pants are too tight. But I can’t be gaining and losing six pounds of fat a week apart from each other, can I?”

“No, and it’s not the baby. Oh well, as long as your blood pressure is fine…”

I don’t feel “oh well” about it. I don’t mind the big belly. I really don’t. I was ready for that. Even the ankle swelling I was prepared for. But guys, I am SO FAT all over. I hate pictures of myself. I hate that I hate pictures of myself, because I’ve looked forward to beautiful pregnancy photos my whole life. But my face looks fat. My Wii Fit Plus thinks I’m OBESE. I look at pictures and I don’t see a glowing pregnant lady. I see a FAT lady who also happens to be pregnant. The rolls of fat, or fluid or whatever that is around my face and neck squeeze me at night.

If the last crazy weight fluctuations ARE all water, that’s 13 pounds of water weight I’m carrying around on top of forty odd pounds of fat, placenta, baby and blood volume. I’m afraid that I’ll hate photos of myself forever, that I’ll have this baby and still be told that I’m obese.

Picture progression:

Three months

Four months

five months

six months

eight months

Now

Anyway, it’s really starting to hit Perfect Husband that we’re going to be parents in just a week or two. Maybe it is the actual imminence of the birth itself, or maybe it’s the fact that a recent cooling in temperatures has enabled me to actually be useful so I set up shelving in the nursery and folded and laid out all the baby clothes. We don’t have any furniture for the baby’s room yet, because we can’t afford any, so I set up the change pad and the cloth diapers on the dresser in our bedroom. So now it’s beginning to look like we’re actually expecting a baby.

So Monday, PH kicked into gear. We stopped at Shoppers and bought cotton balls and baby wipes. We packed a hospital bag (although it’s missing certain things, like a nursing bra, because I haven’t been able to afford a new bra that doesn’t leave deep red lines in my skin yet. Payday is Thursday). We even installed the car seat in the car, something I’ve been itching to do since we brought it home from my friends’ garage sale a couple of months ago.

So by the end of yesterday, I was feeling much better. But Perfect Husband was like “HOLY CRAP WE’RE HAVING A BABY.”

I’m feeling that too, but I’ve been feeling that for a really long time, so I’m just grateful for things like a place to change the baby, a place to put the baby, a way to bring the baby home, etc.

Those have really been my biggest stressors. Having a person wiggling inside you really kind of makes the ticking clock obvious.

Not having a bassinet was driving me crazy, so last Monday I insisted that we go to Toys R Us and buy the moses basket and stand that I had registered for on my totally-untouched baby registry. They were out of stands, but at least I had the basket. I mentioned it on Facebook and immediately got bombarded by people saying “I was JUST ABOUT to buy you THAT EXACT THING, why you gotta be like that?”

So I was all like “I’m SORRY, okay? But I’m kind of running out of time. The baby is FULL TERM here, people, and I had nowhere for it to sleep.”

So I promised one of the people that she could buy me the stand, and regretted that I had doubted my friends’ plans to give me things before the baby arrived. I chided myself for spending money that didn’t have to be spent out of panic, when waiting two days would have delivered the thing I needed to my door.

That was a week ago.

No sign of a stand yet, or anything else for that matter. I’m glad I got that moses basket, or I’d be FREAKING OUT right now.

PH asked if we should go buy the stand, but I said no because I’d promised this friend that she could get it for me, since I had robbed her of her chance to give me a moses basket. So we just have to wait, and hope it arrives before Babby does. At least that’s not the end of the world. Worst case scenario we can keep the basket between us on the bed at night for a bit until the stand shows up. The important thing is that we have a changing pad, diapers, car seat, a moses basket, and some handmedown clothes/diaper covers/baby carriers. Nothing else matters.

That’s what I’m telling myself.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

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