I have dreams of unpreparedness almost every night. Things like: I'm up in the morning and look at the clock, and I'm ten minutes late for work and haven't started getting ready. Or: house-guests are on the doorstep, and I forgot to clean the house. I wonder if these dreams will subside once we get our nursery in order? I suspect this feeling of not being ready goes a little deeper in my subconscious than that! Nevertheless, there's no denying it will help to actually have a place to put a sleeping baby. If Jabberwocky came home today, we'd have to lay her in a laundry basket lined with blankets. I suppose worse things have happened.
In my waking hours, I'm still confident that we have time for all the essential arrangements. Certain things do keep catching me off guard, though. For instance, I'm now at the point of having a doctor's appointment every two weeks. So I'll now be seeing my doctor more often than I see most of my friends. More often than I go out for coffee. More often than I shop for clothes. I mean, we're talking a really regular kind of activity here.
My last appointment was a few days ago. The doctor measured my belly, poking around to find the top of my uterus. Amazing what a trained physician can interpret with her fingertips. Like a chef jabbing a piece of meat to tell the difference between rare and medium-rare. When I poke the top of my belly, it all just seems squishy. Anyway, she told me I'm right on track, saying "you just look small because you're so long." People have commented that my baby bulge isn't very big, and I figured it's because my five-feet-nine-inches give Jabberwocky a little extra room. "You just tell them you're at 26 inches!" said the doctor firmly. Right, that'll teach 'em. Since even to a pregnant person, hearing a measurement like 26 inches pretty much means nothing. Just as long as doc says things are good!
Jabberwocky kicks like the dickens sometimes for an hour straight, then sometimes I don't notice her for most of the day.
Today marks Week 29!
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