Tomorrow we will hit 33 weeks. There is something so surreal about this.
It has been a big week for us in so many ways. The big project I was working on is finished, and was very successful. I am more relieved than I am proud of the outcome. It turned into a long and difficult slog. I am glad it turned out well, but I don't consider it my best work. Given everything that happened, I'm just happy to have survived it, and for it to have all come out okay. We had some movement on some big personal things, too, this week. And then there is the fact that now that I have my life back again, I can focus on this baby. It's a little overwhelming, truthfully. Being so busy with the work stuff totally distracted me and prevented me from freaking out about the delivery, and the whole baby-coming-to-live-with-me thing. Have I mentioned that it's been more than 20 years since I've changed a diaper???
So, in no particular order. . .
I have gotten quite large about the middle, and now struggle to get out of bed, which is particularly unfortunate if you think about how often I get up in the middle of the night. My center of gravity is all out of sorts. T. laughs at me and says I'm like a turtle that has been flipped on its back. It really is kind of pathetic. And don't even get me started on how much effort it takes me to get myself appropriately propped up with pillows once I get back into bed. My payback for the laughing turtle comments is that I now wake him every time I return to bed. It isn't easy being a turtle.
As I become increasingly rounder, I find myself wishing that my dog spoke better English. Oh sure, it's nice that she recognizes such useful phrases as "Excuse me" (translation: get out of the way, you ginormous creature--why we are so polite to a canine, I'm not sure) or "do you have to poop" (no translation necessary, I'm sure-- results in a gleeful happy-dog dance all the way to the door every time). But at this point, it would be much more useful if she could turn up the heat, turn off the lights, or grab the orange juice out of the fridge. We will definitely have to brush up on her language skills before we ever try to get knocked up again. These all seem like reasonable tasks she should be able to accomplish, which would save the poor turtle from having to labor to get off the couch.
I felt fantastic during the project, but I promptly fell apart upon its conclusion. We had a lovely celebration dinnner Saturday night, and I got back into the car feeling fine. But, when I stepped out of the car at home, my back gave way and one of my legs seemed to almost go out beneath me. I don't know if the baby shifted or my newfound extreme roundness is pinching something over near my right hip, but my right leg isn't quite as stable as it should be, and it occasionally gives out on me. On top of that, the little miss doesn't seem satisfied with the space she's been given in my giant round belly, and she is a PUSHY broad. She is stretching a ton, and it is really quite uncomfortable as she bangs around my ribcage. Also, I think she is laying sideways across my midsection, which isn't so great at this stage of the game. I know there's still time for her to switch around, but I wish she'd do it in short order. I really, really don't want a c-section.
The project. . .it ended well overall, but the woman I was teamed with was a trainwreck. Even worse, she doesn't think she was a trainwreck, and thinks it went just fine. She is completely oblivious to the 18-20 hour days I had to put in to make up for the disaster that she became in the middle of things. The office found out about her performance, and they will be addressing things with her (I didn't actually rat her out--plenty of other people noticed and relayed word back to the office, unfortunately--it was THAT bad). Before the office takes her to task, I feel like I have to have a conversation with her about her skill level, what other people in her position normally do during such projects (ie, she did a fraction of the work she should have been doing), and why she is so far off the mark. She is so completely terrified of the job that she literally couldn't do it. I had to not only pick up the tremendous amount of slack, but also had to pour time and attention into what she DID do just to whip her "contribution" into shape, and to get her to carry it out. It was exhausting. It's going to be a dreadful conversation, though, given how completely oblivious she is to the severity of her situation. She thinks her level of fear, her skill level, and her level of contributions on the project are normal. They really are not, and I feel like she needs to hear that from me before she hears it from the office. I don't think she'll hear anything I say, but for her own sake, I have to try. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to other people in the office to have her think that what I did for her during this project was normal--she was a giant pit of need, and I did not want the project to fail, so I did what I had to do to get the job done. No one else should be in that position, though. Thank goodness it's over. The office felt so bad for me after everything that's happened over the last few weeks that they ordered me to take this week off--and it doesn't count as part of my vacation time.
I have another doctor's apppointment tomorrow. I'm a little apprehensive. Now that I'm not distracted by the project, I am back to waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's not helping matters that I've been having funky stabby pains in my vajayjay, and last night while reading my pregnancy book, it mentioned that stabbing pains can be a sign of the cervix opening up. I'm going to try to think positive.
And finally, also on tomorrow's agenda: lunch with a good friend from college who is in town for the holidays, who I never get to see--SO excited to see her! Then later, a prenatal massage.