The New Roommate

A certain young lady has arrived here.  She hasn't brought much luggage with her, but she evidently means to stay.*

*Anyone who correctly identifies the allusion gets my utmost respect and a mention on the blog

40 weeks

When I studied abroad in Jerusalem, my Old Testament teacher explained how numbers in the Bible often had more symbolic meaning than literal.  The point I remember most vividly was that the number 40 didn't always mean 40, but usually meant "a lot", or in most contexts "a long time".  Forty days, forty nights... who knows how long the rain actually fell?  A long time, that's all that matters.

In human gestation, forty is used pretty much the same way.  It's a fairly arbitrary measure as well because nobody can actually know exactly how long the baby's been a thing to be, health providers give such a wide definition to full term, and babies vary so widely in growth that size is really not a reliable measure of time.  You can never really know how long the kid's been cooking when it comes out.  When you hit "forty" weeks, it just means you've been pregnant a long time.

I've been pregnant a long time.

But there is a shockingly close end in sight.  Child delivery has been one of those things, like getting married or graduating from college, that other people seemed to do a lot of and I imagined I'd probably do in the future but it was so far removed from my known world that I had no frame of reference to guide me in how it would be like when it happened.  Now here I am on the veritable brink.  Once again, life as I know it is about to shift and change forever in a moment.

Everyone keeps saying how things will change, yada yada yada.  DUH.  That is not useful knowledge.  I've really enjoyed our required classes through the birth center that gave me facts: this is the range of normal in a baby, this is not.  This is how you take care of normal, this is how you remedy not normal.  They didn't bother telling us life will be different; they know we know life will be different.  We're the ones who made the decision to change it.

Admittedly, we cannot know exactly how it will be for us till it happens, but we'll learn what works for us and manage all right.

Lots of people from work have more of less demanded I share baby news upon its arrival.  I've been more or less non-committal because probably the last people I'll make a priority to share with among my circle of acquaintance will be the accountant of the tenant who uses our downtown garage.  They must not think about what they are really asking of new parents, but I don't want to be rude and point it out so, well, pointedly.

We'll share as we have news, then inclination and energy to spread it.  I'm sure you understand, faithful readership.

Schrödinger's cat, my birthday, and baby things. It doesn't have to make sense.

Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment. To dumb it down, Austrian physicist Schrödinger presents a scenario where a cat may be alive or dead, depending on an earlier random event.  Until you observe the cat to actually see whether it is alive or dead, you have to assume it's simultaneously alive and dead.

We didn't find out if our baby is a boy or girl.  It doesn't bother me at all because until baby comes out and we can see if it's a boy or girl, we get to assume it's both a boy and a girl and have all the fun of anticipating both for 9 months.  Our baby is Schrödinger's cat.

We really have no indication of whether baby is a boy or girl.  No feelings, dreams, inclinations, or preferences sway us one way or another.  We really just want a healthy baby.  We're prepared for both and will be happy with either. I'm really glad I don't get to pick.  I have a hard enough time deciding what to eat for lunch.  BTW, we think all the tips, tricks, and old wives tales for guessing are BS, so don't even go there.

I'm at 37.5 weeks, so baby is full term and may show up anytime between now and Spring Break.  Five weeks is a huge margin for normal delivery timing. It's 12.5% of the length of an average pregnancy.  It boggles my mind.  Baby is all ready to go.  S/he's been head down since about 19 weeks and dropped over 2 weeks ago if my bladder is a reliable indicator.  This is my husband's child for sure. He's always prepared for everything well in advance.  Even if his exit isn't for miles he'll get in the right hand lane even if traffic is slower there just to be ready.  He joked last week that baby simply identified the exit and got in the right lane early.  I laughed so hard from the truth of the statement I almost coughed up a lung.

I've been so sick the last couple weeks.  I was doing so well and then bam!  Worst cold of my life.  All those things people say about how miserable it is to be sick and pregnant are all true.  Comes on easier, stronger, and stays around longer.  Not cool.  My only consolation is supposing that all this coughing has helped strengthen my sorry abdominal muscles and will aid in delivery.  I'm happy to report I'm finally feeling much better.

I was sick over my birthday this year.  Which is fine because per usual, my husband had to work that night.  Not like I would have spent my evening any different if he hadn't.  I've pretty much spent the last 10 evenings on the couch watching the Olympics, blowing my nose, and getting up to pee during every commercial break and/or special athlete highlight. I did get to have a little fun. We went out to breakfast (I had bacon pancakes.  BACON PANCAKES.) after a morning prenatal appointment, my coworker brought me cake and flowers at work, and I got a email birthday greeting from my local dentist.

Don't ask me how old I am. I legitimately can't remember most of the time and having a birthday just complicated it.