Chrissie wanted me to be sure and let everyone know the present status of the baby:

Stubborn little girl (just like her mother 🙂 We’ll keep you posted.

Well, I made it through the weekend and am still pregnant. No false alarms, no warm up contractions, nothing. If it wasn’t for the increasing number of streach marks I’d be worried that maybe she’s stalled out. It appears, however, that she is continuing to grow. She’s just not ready to make her big entrance.

Now, normally, this wouldn’t be much of problem except we are having a heat wave like you wouldn’t believe. So far, it’s been in the 90’s all week and sticky hot. I like hot. I don’t like hot + 9 months pregnant. This is a bad combo. To beat the heat, I’ve started hosting my very own wet t-shrit contests. Yes, you heard me right. I get up, shower, dunk by maternity shirt under cold water, and then wear it until it dries at which point I take it off, dunk it again, and repeat process. Now, on a 22 year old co-ed, this might be a sexy thing. On a 30 year old hugely pregnant woman, it just doesn’t have the same effect. I think I caught the mailman delivering my mail with his eyes shut the other day to spar him this sight. But at this point, I don’t care what I look like just so long as I’m cool.

But don’t reserve all your sympathy for me. Instead, send it to poor Kevin who has to deal with my irritability and unreasonable demands. For the last few nights, I’ve decided that light bulbs generate too much heat so every time poor Kevin tries to turn on a light he gets his head snapped off. I found him rummaging for a flashlight last night in order to read his book. I’ve even curtailed our nightly kiss goodnight as I cannot bear to be touched by a hot person. He’s taking it all in stride, however, but I think I heard him talking to my stomach last night pleading with Mini-Me to hurry up and get here.

Everyone tells me I’m crazy. That I should enjoy these last few days of solitude and freedom from an infant. That all too soon, I’ll look back and this time and shake my fists at the sky and curse myself for not enjoying my last “me” time. Maybe so but right now, I’d give Kevin’s left ear and both of his pinky toes if I’d make this kid hop into action. And, if the weather man is correct and we’re headed for another week of 90 degree temp, I might even through all the eyelashes on Kevin’s right eye.

So that’s where we stand. Hot and massively pregnant with no end in sight. More to come…. hopefully soon!

Just wanted to let you all know that so far, there’s no movement on the baby front. I’m a bit disappointed really because, well, I’ve got nothing left to do but wait. The clothes are washed, the room is prepped, our bags are packed and all we need is a baby. But no, this kid is having a grand old time adding a ton of very nasty streach marks to my belly. Even Kevin is grossed out.

So nothing to report. Nothing. Nada. Grrrr.

It’s time for another profile shot! This one has the same shirt you’ve seen before but a MUCH bigger belly. Chrissie “technically” has 3 weeks to go, but honestly I think she could pop at any moment.

By popular demand, here are some pics of the nursery. Chrissie’s worked very hard to make this room a reality despite my attempts to store power tools in it or make it less “girlie.” When JT was here in June they stenciled the border (doesn’t it look cool) and Chrissie’s been organizing and re-organizing it daily for the past 3 weeks. With the addition of all the clothes and neat items she got from the baby shower yesterday it’s chock full of baby stuff now. That means more organizing and lugging things to and from the basement in the future 🙂

Left Side	Right Side
Crib Side

I’m totally slowing down. My need for napping has reappeared and my ability to waddle about has diminished to almost nothing. I have to stop half way up the stairs to catch my breath! However, my crazy life continues at its pre-preganancy pace. I’m sure someone somewhere is having a good chuckle watching me try and keep up.

Take today. All I had to do was take the cats to the vet and go to my hospital monitoring. Two things. That’s it.

Well, the drama that is my life unfolded like so. At about 10am, I pulled out the cat boxes. My kitties are no dummies, they saw the boxes and knew what was about to happen so they ran and hid. I spend the next 20 minutes chasing them up and down stairs. It wasn’t so much of a chase really. They’d run up the stairs…I’d slowly lumber behind them…they’d run around me back down the stairs…I’d slowly lumber behing them…and so on. Once finally snatched, I spent another few minutes trying to get the hissing, scratching balls of fur through a remarkable small door. Luckily, I was bigger. (No fat pregnant jokes please, Kevin.) So I headed for the vet thinking the hard part was over. Ha!

Once there, the vet tech pulled out Wicks. She was weighed, temp taken, and given a vaccine shot. No problem. Next came fatty. Lets just say, once the cat carrier gate was open, fatty began her death moaning/hissing. We wrestled her out but when the vet tried to check her temp, fatty lost it. She did not want the thermometer in her butt. I can’t blame her, really. My hand, unfortunately, was closest to her mouth so she took a HUGE bite out of my hand. I’m talking fangs to the bone. Luckily, the vets are prepared for this kind of thing so they had an peroxide/antibacterial flush on hand I could use. But moving my left thumb is still awfully painful.

Slightly wounded and bleeding, I made my way home and spent the next hour asleep in the hammock trying to recover from the horror that is my cat. Awake and refreshed, I headed toward the hospital for my weekly monitoring of Mini-Me.

While I’m in the materity ward waiting to check in, a nurse comes running down the hallway yelling….”Can you clean her up? I’ve got to call the doctor….. she’s hemerroging!!!!” Every nurse there flew into action. I must have look very pale because one of them asked me to go into the waiting room and closed the door behind me. I watched the commotion outside for a minute or two until a bunch of people ran into the room and grabbed the phone. It was the family. They were trying desperately to find the father. I guess the mom had just checked in and he was down at the car getting the rest of their stuff. The person on the phone was sobbing, people where running all around, and then they wheeled her past us saying something about a detached uterus and checking to make sure the baby was still alive. Yikes!

Needless to say, when they set me up for the baby monitor a few minutes later, I totally failed my blood pressure test. We chalked it up to anxiety and they let me go but man alive, I’m still shaking. That was too scary for words. After that, I came home, turned on the TV and just tuned out.

Tomorrow I have another doctor appointment and a hair cut. Good thing it’s nice out. I’m going to need some serious hammock time.