I have three days of work this week, and then two days next week. And then I’m done. DONE! Bring on maternity leave! Not a moment too soon, I might add, because I am exhausted.
Clive and I attended an intensive weekend of prenatal classes this weekend (9-4pm Sat & Sun) with a retired nurse/midwife who showed lots of videos. I don’t think I learned anything (outside of some surprising local statistics about episiotomies, inductions, c-sections, circumcision and other things I want to avoid), simply because my job is lax and I spend my entire workday (save an hour or so for actual work) reading about pregnancy and birth.
I think the thing that hit me the hardest is the fact that the baby won’t be a baby forever and will soon be a toddler and then just get more and more confusing (and difficult?) after that. I’ve been so focused on my pregnancy that it was actually easy for me to forget that he’s going to grow up. Thank god I don’t have to give birth to a three year old, because I’m not ready for one of those yet. I much prefer babies.
My baby has been laying breech for the past few days and it’s making me a bit nervous. I’m reaching the point where he really needs to flip. It’s getting smaller and smaller in there for him to turn himself around. Fingers crossed that he will.
Clive took some candid pictures of me yesterday and I don’t look cute, small or attractive whatsoever. I’m a big fat blob, and it’s made me feel totally gross. I made him delete the pictures.
