This Is How It Goes: Part I.

Part One:

Well, then.
Yesterday, Saturday, marked 30 weeks of pregnancy for me....
a mere 10 weeks to go until delivery (approximately)!

Ziggy continues to be increasingly mobile; I've read that this is the most active month, with the final two tapering off due in part to the babe's increased size and by proxy, the womb's relative smallness.

I'm not always sleeping well or long, though some nights, like the one previous to last, I got in a full twelve hours as my Mister rose early with the dog and took precautionary measures not to wake me by closing the door and packing me into the bed with pillows surrounding me. Such bliss, to sleep like that. Especially when last night was a five hour night of restlessness, mobile babe and bathroom trips every couple hours, it seems. I woke at 5:30, and at last, unable to get back to sleep, Bert and I made the trek over to the dog park as the sun was still rising, the birds sang out and hardly anyone was exhibiting signs of wakefulness in the neighborhood. We saw no one, save for a lone runner and a city bus with a driver and not a single passenger.

We begin our childbirth education classes at our midwives' practice this week-- I'm planning on having a natural vaginal delivery with no intervention unless absolutely necessary-- we'll skip the drugs, the fetal monitor, the episiotomy and so on, thank you very much. Our midwife, Deborah, will attend the birth and unless we find someone who is looking to get certified, we'll go without a doula, as it's simply a greater expense than we can prioritize at present. Changing insurance three times during my prenatal care has proven to be an increasingly helpful thing, as we owe a pretty penny for care administered under the auspices of the first insurer. Our most recent carrier costs less out of pocket and gives us far greater choice and quality of care, something for which I am intensely grateful. At last, it looks possible for both of us to receive chiropractic care -- my Mister's been out of sorts since his days hefting warehouse boxes and goods at Dell and my loosening joints could greatly benefit from stabilization and maintenance.

I most certainly feel a bit clumsier these days; a bit like a Weeble. My right hand tends to have very limited feeling due to my faux carpal tunnel and grasping things is quite difficult at times. Rolling out of bed can be a comical affair, as can bending over to retrieve more oft dropped items: loose change, lone socks or washcloths from the freshly laundered pile, kitchen utensils and all like that....

My hands are staying a bit plumper than usual, infused with fluids-- I've removed my engagement ring and also, in the last day, my promise ring to myself: the big turquoise I've worn since purchasing it in El Paso on my travels across the United States half a decade ago. My feet, though I elevate as often as possible, stay a bit swollen & I'm down to wearing two pair of shoes only: my Birkenstock thongs, and my Crocs, both of which offer comfort and support without binding. I've also decided that while I can still wear my pre-pregnancy jeans (tops are out of the question!), my Beloved Mister's underwear are more comfortable than my own.... I may finally have to break down and purchase some low cut maternity panties.

I think my Mister would say that I've had a tougher time with things in the last few weeks than in the whole of my pregnancy, as he's been not the target, but the witness to some of my less than shining moments-- like having a come apart the other night, devolving into fifteen minutes of weeping, all stimulated by having been less than ideally patient with my precious (& precocious) niece Autumn, thereby questioning my ability to be a good mother, let alone a good aunt, to someone I love as much as life itself; in point of fact, at the first of this episode, I couldn't even name what troubled me and I've yet to voice my finding to my Mister. He was simply loving and kind and allowed me to weep until I'd come back to some kind of balance and extracted myself from his arms to prepare supper, an activity I find saves me with it's purpose and therapeutic aspect of chopping.

I've been a bit more tired, headachey and even emotional than since the first trimester, at which point all symptoms were obliterated by the novelty of early pregnancy and blissfully cold weather, which I'm finding was far kinder to my body than the heat and poor air quality of Nashville summer. This is the worst year by far for air quality in my tenure here. Where last year (in August!) we had only a single warning ozone trouble for high risk folks (a category in which the local EPA office's engineer tells me to count my third trimester self), we've already had more than can be counted on one hand prior to a full month of summer marking the calendar. Breathing is easily more labored than ever previous; rest, low stress and relaxation help on all counts.