Okay...so I'm better now...
Okay so after looking at every baby boy name I could find yesterday Chris and I came up with three that we like, but again, we're not telling anyone. It's paranoid and silly, but after yesterday we're not taking any chances. But we've got a short list of three names that we like and we're just going to wait until we get to see him and then we'll decide. Reilly was honestly that best fit for us and him (he kicked EVERY time I called him Reilly) but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. But we're also going into it with the knowledge that just because we have these three names picked out, we may see him and not think any of those names fit for him.
In retrospect I can't really be angry with K. about this. She had no idea that we had that name picked out, there's no way she could have known, so I suppose I can't hate her for it. Oh don't get me wrong, I'm still mad at her for all the other shit...but I'm letting this one go. She has no idea that I cried on and off for six hours yesterday because of her, and if a person doesn't actually know that they've done anything wrong it seems kind of stupid to blame them for your misery. So I'm letting it go. I even called me uncle yesterday (of course, he didn't answer his cell phone) but I left him a message congratulating him and K. and even told him to give her a big hug for me and to kiss the new addition. I didn't truly feel it when I said, but I didn't call him because I wanted to, I called him because I needed to. I'm angry at them both, but I knew that taking that step and being a bigger person then either of them has been all along, would actually help me to let go of some of the anger in my heart and move on with a clear head. It helped...not as much as I would've liked, but enough that I was able to laugh again at something funny.
Anyway...
So I've started keeping a closer eye on my contractions and stuff. I've been paying attention but I wasn't keeping strict track of them. I was basically guesstimating how far apart they were and stuff like that. But now as we get closer to the real thing, that's not good enough. So I've been keeping a steno pad with me and writting down when they start, how long they are, and how bad the pain is (scaled of 1-10) at the most intense part. So far today they're averaging about 25-30 minutes apart lasting about 45-60 seconds long and not really getting any worse than a 4 on the scale. So they're there...and he's certainly doing his best to tell me how much he is not enjoying them...but they're not at a point that I need to do anything about them except get up and walk around and drink lots of water. Cause I'm not technically "in labor" until they're five minutes apart for at least an hour and getting stronger with each one. Technically a woman can be in labor before that, but it's not considered "active labor." It's all very "gray area" because it's different with everyone. Which makes it very difficult to tell if you are actually at the point where it's "time." Everyone always assumes that you're not in labor until your water breaks, but only one in ten women actually have their water break on it's on. 90% of women have to have their water broken by the doctor. And it's not like the movies, it doesn't always happen all at once...sometimes your water can break and "leak" in a small steady amount.
Ya know, being pregnant is exhausting enough, you would think that figuring out if you're in labor could just be easy...cause that would only be fair. But no...God likes to screw with us.
I'm also of the opinion that labor should tickle instead of hurting. I mean, c'mon, we're doing something amazing. We're literally growing a human inside us, and that's a huge deal. What man can say he's done anything as cool as that. There's a reason that women were seen as goddesses long before christianity ever came on the scene. So if its so amazing that our bodies are capable of this wonderous thing, why should it have to hurt. I bet that if men had to do it, it feel like a long fart or something. Not the bone grinding, skin ripping horror that we have to endure. So I think that if God was a nice dude, he'd just let it tickle, maybe with a little pain that wouldn't be any worse than the cramp you get in your side when get a really good belly laugh with friends.
Oh fantasy life...
The wierd thing now is...I'm so bored with being pregnant. Seriously, I'm done. Stick a fork in me. My timer has popper. It's time for the litte Reilly-that-was to come on out and be welcomed to the light. But as bored as I am with it...I can't stop thinking and talking about it. Because it's everywhere I look. The elevators at work are all mirrored walls, so not only do I get to see my strange new shape from some very unflattering angles...I can't escape the belly. When I go to wash my hands in the bathroom I forget how far my belly is sticking out and I inevitably bump into the counter when I reach to turn on the water. I haven't taken a single item of clothing out of my closet or dresser drawers because all my maternity clothes are in a hamper in front of my dresser. I didn't want to put them away because then every time I would go to get dressed I would have to look at all the cute little shirts and the size 8 jeans I used to wear and it would just depress me. So I just keep washing them and folding them, and putting them right back in the hamper.
In the beginning of being pregnant there is so much to reasearch and learn about that you are litterally bombarded with information and you think "How could I possible take all of this in?" And you can distract yourself from all of the bullshit by reading and studying and preparing. But when you get this close to the end...you've read it all. You've watched the horrifying video, you've read about breastfeeing basics, you are truly skilled in the theory of motherhood, and you feel as if you are as ready as you are going to be (even though you know you're never really ready). Then you have to sit around for weeks waiting for the little rugrat to get here so you can start the learning process all over again. So you try to entertain yourself by fantasizing, getting ready for the new arrival, and cleaning every inch of your apartment...even if you just cleaned that inch the night before. Partially because you're compelled to...nesting and all..but partially because you're just so bored with it already.
But the problem is that no matter how bored you are with it (they call it the Pregnancy-blahs) you can't escape it. No matter how sick you are of thinking about it...the conversation always seems to roll around to it, no matter what you do. Because if you don't bring it up, inevitably someone else will. So here is what I did to entertain myself. I have stopped thinking about the pregnancy in terms of the baby and how excited I am to meet him, and started thinking of the end of my pregnancy in terms of myself. I've done a little bit of this before now...but i made a list of all the things that I am looking forward to once this experience is over:
1. Having a drink...an alcoholic one
2. Seeing my toes...without lifting my leg up or out.
3. Wearing pants that don't have elastic waist bands
4. Being able to put my arms around my husband without having to angle my back forward around the belly.
5. Being able to stand up or sit down without grunting
6. That feeling right after birth where it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your torso for the first time in months
7. Once the baby is a few months old....sleeping through the night (hopefully...I slept through the night when I was two weeks old, but every baby is different)
8. There are three things I used to never leave the house with...cell phone, keys, cigarettes...soon I can take Tums and Zantac off of that list lol
9. Not working for a little while and just enjoying life...being able to nap when baby naps...
10. Once I'm done nursing...my breasts returning to their pre-pregnancy size (there's even a chance they might be smaller...that would be awesome!)
11. cuddeling with my husband.....and having blissfully uncomplicated sex that doesn't involve finding a position that accomodates my belly...sorry if that was TMI
12. And in a rare mushy moment....reading to my son and teaching him the music is the soundtrack to our lives, and to cherish all forms.
There's probably more...but that's enough for now...
God...if you're listening...He's ready to rock! So let's get this party started