34 Weeks

At 34 weeks, I'm huge. I believe the proper medical term is "ginormous." Small Boy can't sit on my lap (what lap?) for bed-time stories anymore; we lay on the rug together. Clothes that got me to the end of the Small Boy pregnancy have long ago been consigned to the back of the closet, I can only wear slip-on clogs (because I can't bend to tie laces), and I had to buy a new winter maternity jacket over the weekend because it's cold here and unzipped just wasn't cutting it anymore. I'm profoundly annoyed at spending real money on a down maternity jacket in the final month of the pregnancy, but I figure after the baby is born I can wear the baby and zip the jacket so I can stretch some extra use out of it. Then I just have to hope that at some point in the future a friend is heavily pregnant in the winter so I can loan out the coat to her and get the satisfaction of seeing somebody use it.

At 34 weeks I'm also now allowed to give birth in my hospital of choice, which is a low-key birthing hospital (though they are equiped to perform C-sections) lacking a NICU or an intensive care station for adults. Therefore, as a precaution, Dr. Fantabulous won't let his patients deliver there before 34 weeks. After 34 weeks it becomes a possibility, though of course it would depend on the particular circumstances of any given pregnancy/labor. If it's "just" early without any indications of trauma or distress or danger to me or the baby, Dr. Fantabulous will let me deliver there; a friend of mine delivered there at 35 weeks and she and her son went home after 4 days. This is a big relief to me for two reasons: 1) I really like the hospital and had a very good experience there with Small Boy and 2) if I delivered at the university hospital with the NICU, Dr. Fantabulous probably would not be the one to attend the birth, and I'm rather attached to Dr. Fantabulous.

At 34 weeks I'm also almost ready to not ask Dr. Fantabulous to tell me the baby's sex. Every appointment is an exercise in self-control; we've managed not to ask so far and at this point I figure we've made it 34 weeks without asking, we can make it the final six (though I have to confess I'm hoping this baby, like Small Boy, comes a bit early; not scary early, just a little early). I might just be able to let it go now.

At 34 weeks I'm ready to say hello to the baby, and a little sad to say goodbye to this special time alone with Small Boy. I'm confident that we're ready, and scared for things to change. I'm so done being pregnant, and just now realizing that I'll never be pregnant again. It changes from day to day, like this season; sometimes pure autumn, sometimes I can taste winter on the air. On the cusp. But moving inexorably forward.