The Clock Is Ticking Down...
Even though Pregnancy Weekly tells me, "This is day number 211 and you're 30 weeks pregnant! You have 69 days or 10 weeks left, and are 75% of the way there. Baby's age since conception is 197 days or 28 weeks," it still feels like a ways off. I mean September. That's like, what, ages away. But today, in the mail, I got this packet from Beth Israel that made everything seem just a bit closer to home: "Dear Mom-to-be: This letter should serve to confirm that your physician or nurse-midwife has registered you to deliver here on or near your expected due date." In this package is a form we need to fill out with our pediatrician's name (GAG! Have yet to find pediatrician! Have yet to think about finding pediatrician! Can't even spell pediatrician without spellcheck! Must find pediatrician NOW!) and with information that will be needed for Brown Brown's birth certificate. Hello? Birth certificate? It just feels too, well, soon!
Of course, you'd think I'd be anxious to have him outta me, as Brown Brown isn't making me feel any more comfortable these days. He's apparently gotten too big for his britches--or my womb, as the case may be--and he is just sticking out wherever he feels like with no concern to my comfort, no siree, Bob. My belly is lopsided as he apparently is trying to push his way out through my belly button (I guess the exits either aren't clearly marked in there or he's just not a very bright baby). It's not a happy feeling. In fact, it could be described as downright painful. Adam's convinced that Brown Brown is going to be born with bruises and marks all over him from my trying to push him back into a more comfortable position (although, in all fairness, sometimes I'm just feeling around to see if I can identify body parts. I can't. In my right side at this moment is either his head, his butt, his back, or really, for all I know, some limb. I can just tell there's something there!).
So, we're looking at ten weeks (from yesterday). That's actually not so long when you think about it. It's even shorter when you think that if he can figure out a means of egress in seven weeks (from yesterday), then this sucker is a full-term, honest-to-goodness actual baby. Of course, with my luck, he'll wait a full twelve weeks, just to keep torturing me. After all, his father was a slow learner (and if you don't know the story of how Adam and I got together, then you'll just have to take my word that Adam may be Hah-vahd smart, but he's rather slow in other areas), and I have a bad hunch it's going to be like father, like son.
Of course, you'd think I'd be anxious to have him outta me, as Brown Brown isn't making me feel any more comfortable these days. He's apparently gotten too big for his britches--or my womb, as the case may be--and he is just sticking out wherever he feels like with no concern to my comfort, no siree, Bob. My belly is lopsided as he apparently is trying to push his way out through my belly button (I guess the exits either aren't clearly marked in there or he's just not a very bright baby). It's not a happy feeling. In fact, it could be described as downright painful. Adam's convinced that Brown Brown is going to be born with bruises and marks all over him from my trying to push him back into a more comfortable position (although, in all fairness, sometimes I'm just feeling around to see if I can identify body parts. I can't. In my right side at this moment is either his head, his butt, his back, or really, for all I know, some limb. I can just tell there's something there!).
So, we're looking at ten weeks (from yesterday). That's actually not so long when you think about it. It's even shorter when you think that if he can figure out a means of egress in seven weeks (from yesterday), then this sucker is a full-term, honest-to-goodness actual baby. Of course, with my luck, he'll wait a full twelve weeks, just to keep torturing me. After all, his father was a slow learner (and if you don't know the story of how Adam and I got together, then you'll just have to take my word that Adam may be Hah-vahd smart, but he's rather slow in other areas), and I have a bad hunch it's going to be like father, like son.
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