To the day until my due date. Notice how I did not say, "Or maybe two more months," mentally anticipating another eight month pregnancy, because that would just be inappropriate, right? Unmotherly, even. All these 5K-ers for the March of Dimes, trying their darndest to prevent early births, and here I am secretly wishing for one just a little early. Like, three weeks or so. Yes, that is definitely unmotherly. So here's me, lifting my glass of Mylanta to A Full Forty Weeks of This Crap! Bring it on!
I am not glowing today. I am a grumpy pregnant lady. I had my first prenatal water aerobics class last night, which I have really been looking forward to, and for the first half it was great. And then we hit the deep end, and as soon as I got chest deep in the water, the heartburn rose up in me until I actually had to go back to the shallow end and take deep breaths while everyone else kicked around on their noodles gaily. I had not eaten or drunk anything but water for four hours prior to the class in anticipation of potential heartburn, and I still got it! The instructor suggested I bring antacids to the class from now on, and also offered this cheerful pearl of wisdom: "Your baby must have a lot of hair!" What the...?
I am also grumpy because when I woke up today, I was so puffy I actually thought my rings might have to be surgically removed from my body. This, after I have been raving to everyone about how the water aerobics really kept me from retaining water during my last pregnancy. So much for that.
Two of the women in the class are due in about three weeks, and were excitedly talking about how much they're effaced, how low the baby's head is, and how they're sure it will be any day now and THANK GOD because they couldn't possibly take another day of being pregnant in this heat! I did my squats and kicks obediently and silently fumed at the knowledge of my own summer-long sentence. Whoops, I mean, gestational period.
I also found what I think is the beginning of a varicose vein on my inner calf yesterday. We won't even talk about that. Nor about how my week-by-week pregnancy book says that if I've been "eating plenty" I should have gained between sixteen and twenty-two pounds by now, and I have in fact gained... More than that. We also won't discuss how I have broken out in itchy and distinctly unattractive little red bumps all over my chest and belly. I assume it's a heat rash. Or LEPROSY.
We will talk instead about another baby name! Because thinking of names reminds me that there is in fact a tiny delicious little baby at the end of this summer, hot and miserable though it might be, and that I am not just suffering from some chronic disease characterized by incurable discomfort and excessive gas.
So the name is... Camden. Or Kamden. Not sure which spelling I like best yet. Anyone a fan? Or not? And don't forget to tell me if it goes with Addy's name, because for some reason this seems very important to me.