32 Weeks, 3 Days

Oh, I have been negligent, haven't I?
Well, if it makes you feel any better, it hasn't come without a dose of guilt.
And yes, I know you will not tolerate this behavior upon your arrival.
Perhaps that's why I've been quiet--because I KNOW you won't tolerate it later but right now, you're still content to share me.

We had a wonderful vacation, the almost seven of us!
You're nearly fully countable these days because, after that nine hour stint of walking around Disney, I can honestly say that I'm dragging around a near full-term infant strapped to my belly.
That was HARD!
I kept imagining taking you off and handing you over to Daddy for a bit, just so I could stretch my back and feel that lightening of your load.
Mmmm, but there's no lightening, not yet.
In fact, it's only getting worse...

So it would seem that maybe, just maybe, right around the 32 week mark is when it starts to just all-around suck in general, pregnancy-wise.
Maybe it wasn't Creux.
Because I think it's you, too.
(Though I also think I'm faring a little better--I'm not beyond coping just yet.)

I don't feel great, honestly.
You're heavy, I'm heavy, I can't sleep at night or during the day for that matter so I'm tired, I pee every five minutes and 17 seconds, the ligaments between my legs are screaming as they start to loosen for your soonish arrival, my feet are fat, my hands are swollen, my pre-you contractions are outrageously intense, and I'm STILL gaining weight.
And the waddling thing is just annoying.

But I'm somewhere around a month and half from holding you.
That makes up for everything.

Though...can I just complain for a minute more and then I'll move on?
Because I need to get this off my chest and Daddy is tired (way tired) of hearing me.

First of all, I think you should know that J. Crew is prejudiced against chicks with fat feet.
I didn't even KNOW you could be too fat for flip-flops but you can--I have the friggin marks in my skin to prove it.
So, maybe we shouldn't shop there anymore, hmm?

And, this has been the most annoying thing ever: apparently pregnant women are not to be seen in bikinis.
Why do I think this?
Because I scoured the city and the Internet looking for a cute maternity bikini in which to show you off in at the beach.
And I ended up at VICTORIA'S SECRET.
Yes, with all of the normal people staring at me, probably imagining (in horror) that I actually there to buy lingerie or something when really, I just needed some darn black bikini bottoms that fit.
Okay, and a top.
("Do you have this in a medium," I asked the sales girl who stood staring at me open-mouthed as I dangled the bikini off my finger.  "Because I think I need a medium," I said.  I originially thought she was staring at me like that due to just my being pregnant and outrageous enough to set foot in the store but after I tried on the medium, I realized that she just already knew I was a large and couldn't believe I'd managed to convince myself otherwise.  Little snot.)

I tried the massive maternity store, the like only stinkin' place in town to buy anything right now, and though they combined four stores in one, NONE of them offered a bikini.
If I wanted to cover myself in a burka, well, that I could find.
But I don't want to wear so much material to the beach that I need directions on how to get it on and off.
I don't do "big" well.
The bottoms offered with the tankinis (the CLOSEST thing I could get to a bikini, by the way) have so much fabic that they need to be hiked up to my chin.
U-G-L-Y.
And I simply refuse.

So I braved Victoria's Secret.
And was pissed about it.
Why shouldn't I wear a bikini?
Why wouldn't at least ONE be offered for me at a maternity store?
Why must I shop at the one place in town that I currently do not want to step one pudgy little foot into in order to just feel like myself at the pool?
(Seriously am planning a bonfire with the 45,679 catalogs that sneak their way into my mailbox like every other day.)
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
One of these days, when I have gobs of free time (snicker) I am going to design a whole line of cute bikinis for mamas like me who don't feel like they should have to hide beautiful bellies behind yards of fabric.

Now, come August I will HAPPILY take that tankini, one in every color, thanks very much.
But right now, we're in full bloom.
And I say, bloom away, baby....

I honestly can't believe how close we are to finally meeting officially!
It seems just like yesterday that I was so sick with you.
(And I can still remember the last time I vomited-- it was the beginning of January, the Harmons were here, we had pizza, and they searched for a movie online at Blockbuster while I heaved into the potty.  See?  Remember.)

I know technically we have about seven and a half weeks left and I am really kind of banking on that but you'll come when you're ready and I can't possibly begin to imagine when exactly that will be.
That's one of the best parts, you know!
Just the surprise of the moment.
I know if I went to a regular doctor, I could probably have you here when I wanted you here.
With you being my fifth and with what they'd likely find at my internal exams, they'd probably push for me to schedule your birth a week in advance.
(I tend to make people nervous just dilating away like I do.)
And if I wanted to, I could probably push them to go just a day or so earlier than they'd like so you could be my birthday present.
(I am a pushy broad--I grew up being told that if someone said "No" to me than I was asking the wrong someone.  It stuck, what can I say?)

But I don't want any part of that.
I want you to come when you're finished growing, when my body has fully served its purpose, and when you're ready to face this crazy @$$ home you're about to reside in.
(Sorry, sorry, sorry.  I know I've apologized for this before.  Hopefully you're slightly accustomed to all the noise just from listening from where you are right now but YEESH, it's loud here.  Sorry again.)

I'm ready, I think, to start really preparing for you.
We need to finish our bedroom and that's something that is just going to take a bit of time.
But we sort of realized that we need a new pack-n-play crib thingy over this vacation and I found one that I think would attach to our bed so perhaps you could have your own sleeping space right there next to me.
I don't know what you'll think about that in the end but since we need a new one anyway, I'm okay with trying it because...we've got lots of little night snugglers still.
I can't have them and you in my bed at the same time--it's far too dangerous for my liking.
But it stinks to tell them to leave when I know that they want to cuddle.
(Oh, and they do.  Both your brother and sister climb into bed, whisper "Hi, Mama" and mold themselves right into me and sigh happily, immediately drifting off to sleep, little arms wrapped somewhere around my expansive self.)
So safety-wise I like the idea of this Plan B.
And if you say no, that you want to sleep curled up with me every night and don't want to share with the night snugglers, then that's what will happen.
(See, these are the perks of being the baby--everyone caters to your wishes.)

I think we're going to try some new diapers for you--some cozy-looking cloth ones and we'll see how that goes.  I've been wanting to do this for ages but have just feared the additional workload.
(You can't possibly imagine the laundry generated by six people, much less a seventh, and if you ever find yourself with a) a wife in this spot, I will encourage you to purchase for her montly massage treatments and b) find yourself in this spot, I will come over and help you because I know the load.  I KNOW THE LOAD.)

I think we've also settled on how we want your birthday to go-- meaning, we know who we want here with your siblings.  I've thought long and hard about who I want around because I'm quite particular about these kinds of things and I believe that I've made the best choice for everyone involved.  It's really, really important to me that the person here is here only for your siblings.  I do not want interest in your birth pulling someone from taking care of the others because if I feel like that's going on, I will not be able to relax.  I need to trust that my others are in very good hands and that I can focus soley on what's going on with me and with you.
I do not want anyone else around--not until I feel like I'm ready to share you and that's not going to be an immediate, you've-been-here-for-five-minutes type of thing. 

I have a very clear vision of how I want your first hours to go and they mainly involve you, me, your daddy...and your siblings, who will be free to come and go as they choose.
Of course, we'll have the midwives here for several hours both before and after your arrival and our Special Guest (that's what we'll call her!) will be here too helping with everyone else.
And I know that my family has been disappointed in the past to not be invited to attend the birth's of your siblings and unfortunately nothing is going to change this time around as far as that's concerned.
It's just not something that I'm comfortable with and so, it will be a very private matter, but it also needs to be addressed and I'm really not looking forward to that part of it.
I don't want to make either my family or Daddy's feel unwelcome; at the same time, I need to make sure that I respect my own boundaries and I know right now what I want and don't want and feel like I should be as upfront as possible so there aren't any misunderstandings in the moment.

What else?
(I love making these lists for you.)

I can feel you turning your head on my pelvic floor and it's the only movement you have left that can make me gasp out loud.

My contractions are strong enough sometimes that I can almost see and feel the outline of you.

I regularly watch you move in my belly, the strange little dance you do.  It reminds me of "the wave" being done at sporting events. 

We're not settled on your name.  And we're not even really talking about it because we, for whatever reason, are delusional in thinking that we have "plenty of time left."  We don't.  We need to figure this out within the next month.

Our midwives will be coming in just a few weeks for our home visit.  That sends a lightening bolt of panic down my spine because it means that we'll actually be setting plans in motion for your arrival.  Gulp.

I am scared and am definitely second-guessing this whole "pain-free" thing I'm planning to do.  I am not second-guessing a home birth, want it bad and am so very happy we are on this path, but in the moment of one of those strong contractions, I stare off into space while mouthing, "Ow, ow, ow" repeatedly and think to myself, "Girl, what in the hell are you doing?"

I'm as confused on your gender as I've ever been.  All along I've suspected that you're a girl but I waffle back and forth.  I think you might just be my Chill Baby though.  Meaning, you're good in there.  You play but you don't attack.  Thank you for that.

My ability to imagine you here in my life has profoundly shifted.  I see you everywhere, know the awe I will feel at your tinyness, remember the constant need for feedings, the night-time wakings, how your whimpers and wails will bring me to my knees with love and the desire to just make your world right again.
Quickly.

I strangely am starting to look forward to the constant need for feedings and night-time wakings.
Some of my favorite memories with my newborns have been in those quiet hours when I'm awake nursing and am able to truly just relish every bit of babyness in my arms. 
And I don't have to share you with anyone right then.

I'm excited to be a mommy again.
That's the most important thing you should know.

Loving you already,
Mama