Preg Week 35 - Fun facts for Five (weeks left, that is)

I know I didn't post last Monday to mark week 34. Something came up and I don't remember what it was but it felt like it was of highest priority at the time and I just didn't do it. Sorry.

So here we are, rolling into counting down on a single hand how many more weeks I have until my due date. Curiously, in 3 weeks I'll be at "term" - meaning, despite the wonders of science, OBs still can't give you an exact date of when the kid was conceived or will be born, so there's wiggle room of about 4 weeks (yes, you heard right: FOUR WEEKS) between "term": 38 weeks and "offically overdue": 42 weeks. Rarely will a doctor allow for the mother to go past 42 weeks, because that could be very dangerous if she wants to deliver "naturally", meaning through her vag. Dangerous meaning that the kid will pop out full-grown and smoking a butt. All that oxygen in the delivery room, you know. I do have several friends who were at least 2 weeks late, and one was 3 weeks late. If that happens to me, I might have to drink a bottle of castor oil in one sitting to get the kid stimulated and greased up to COME THE FUCK OUT.

So I'm at 35 weeks. P was 10 days late - she was born at 41 weeks and 3 days, on the day that I was scheduled to be induced. I'm placing my bets on this kid coming on 2 June, which would be fine with me because I have a terrible amount of work to do at the end of May - of course. Isn't that always the way things roll?

Here are some fun symptoms I'm experiencing, in varying degrees of enjoyment:
- my fingers are swollen like little sausages
- I'm waddling, which is H-O-T-T
- the application for my ankles to become cankles has been unanimously accepted and they have swollen appropriately. The left one, in particular, is having a jolly time reaching "elephantine" status pretty much the moment I put my feet on the floor in the morning. The only shoes that fit are my 3-sizes-too-large danskos and flip flops.
- none of my clothes fit. Everything is too low, too tight, too revealing of camel-toe.
- I am enjoying copious amounts of ice cream nightly.
- the urge to nest is making me manic and exhausted. Yesterday we did yard work, there is plenty more to do, and I am fervently wishing for a staff to clean my house! clean my yard! plant my garden! brush my dogs! do my laundry! cook dinner! clean up after dinner! G gets a medal for putting up with me lately.
- the crying at various, unrelated, unsentimental things continues
- I'm alternately freezing then burning up. Early menopause, it sure is nice to experience you again.
- the child continues to lean and push on my bladder. Full or not, I feel the need to pee all the damn time.
- for some curious, unsexual, painful reason the very tops of the insides of my thighs are aching and killing me
- the hands continue to fall asleep and get all pins-and-needle-y, requiring that I wave my hands around like a maniac trying to catch some air
- i'm walking at a senior citizen's pace (while, of course, waddling)
- groaning when I bend down to get something
- my ass seems to have spread so that no chairs at the office are comfortable
- napping would be desireable, but when I do fall asleep I'm restless and can't get comfortable

So. Only five - or six - weeks more of this! Nothing, right! Not a problem at all!!

A co-worker of mine, who is also expecting her second, is shocked that I haven't yet packed my bag for the hospital. What can I say? I'm feeling like I need to throw caution to the wind. Ha!! Because that is just so like me! (Truthfully - I can't for the life of me think about what needs to go into said bag. I know clothing, but what else? Need to research this further, soon).

I'm kind of glad this is my last pregnancy. Although, talk to me in 3 years when this kid is all independent and autonomous and I'm craving another baby. It has been cute reviewing all of the little teeny tiny baby clothes and folding them up.

Actually, don't talk to me, talk me out of it.