A week from now I ought to be postpartum - since my Doctor wants to induce me before she leaves town for a week. (I'm not thrilled with the arrangement, but Mr Renn rather likes it.)
I feel the tiniest bit frantic. There's nothing tremendous that remains to be done (other than the car-seat arriving, please, Mr. UPS man.) but lots of tiny loose ends all over the place. I know most of them will be left undone, but I still feel stress about them.
I am well into the waddling phase. I can't walk up stairs without the front of my thighs hitting my belly. It takes me 5 minutes to rearrange my hip sockets when I need to get out of bed at night.
Once a friend finishes swapping out the trim on the crib bumber, I shall concede to "good enough" and take some nursery photos. Mr Renn is anxious to show you the dresser he refinished.
Halloween is kind of a wash this year. The boys all love their costumes, but I pretty much just threw money at the effort this year. I had no energy or creativity to throw. Thank You ebay. (The Captain is a "piggie". Because he's that obsessed with pigs right now. It's cute. And weird.)
Mr Renn has been watching Mythbusters on Netflix like crazy lately, and he's gotten the boys hooked. Every so often when it's his turn to read bedtime stories, they watch an episode instead. And so it is that when it came time to carve pumpkins, we wound up with a Jamie-Hyneman-faced one. Sir O drew it, Renn carved. Nerds.
My brain refuses to bend around the idea of having a baby girl, or of having her here so soon. It all feels so surreal to me that I expect the reality of it will crash over me quite heavily when she arrives. We've patched together plans for the rest of our kids and are hoping for the shortest possible hospital stay, so if all goes well it will be an intense burst of craziness and change and then I'll be home groping for a new normal.
I'm not terribly worried about the boys adjusting. They're all quite amenable to the idea, and have lots of love to give this baby. I'm mostly just worried about how to stay on top of the messes and the chauffering that has to be done around here. There's not going to be much of a break before I have to figure it out and make it all happen. I'm having such a hard time now - with sleep deprivation and low blood pressure and an inability to bend over. Can I possibly recover with enough energy to make up for a healing postpartum body and a newborn to take care of and at least be able to keep up with the current level of "order?" Order is just so very important to Mr Renn that giving up on it is not an option around here.
It overwhelms. But I can consistently remind myself that at least I'm not moving while pregnant or right after having a baby. Because I've done both and I'm smart enough to be thankful I'm not doing it again.
And now I'm off ... there's a fair amount of daily-grind-tackling that never lets me rest for long. In the meantime I'm trying to spend my stolen spare moments finding a perfect name and folding laundry. Such glamor.
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