I had a obstetrics appointment today - the 31st week of a pregnancy that is zooming by so fast I'm beginning to feel the panic (not to mention a distinct pain in my a** where a sciatic nerve has decided to commence tormenting me).
It's official, the date for the c-section will be June 19.
JUNE. 19th. A date that drags back Thing 2's zodiac sign from Cancer to Gemini. A date that is six months and one day off from his big sister's. Seven weeks. Just 49 days away.
Although I didn't fail the glucose test (surprise), I am considerably low on iron (no surprise there). So I've been given a prescription and instructions to take it lest I need a transfusion during the birth.
It wasn't until she asked me "How's the depression?" though, that I really got to thinking how I've not really been letting myself even THINK about depression.
That's not to say that all of a sudden I feel the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, or that I feel the familiar pangs of anxiety and depression, but I can't say that I'm unencumbered, either. In a month and a half we will have a full house and a new way of life.
Annabel will have a whole new existence. Everything she's known, from her parents' undivided attentions to her daycare situation, will be shifting. Lori will be taking another child to replace her (that idea alone for some reason hurts my heart), and Ittybit won't likely be able to attend her preschool in the fall as I had hoped.
I cannot begin to predict her reactions to all of this, but I've been worried. I feel guilty that so much in her life will change all at once. Isn't it enough to get a new baby?
There's still much procrastination on my part. I haven't finished the new daycare's paperwork, or called the pediatrician, or bought a new dresser, or decided on whether to buy a new infant carseat, or whether to get a new baby tub, or whether to use cloth diapers while I'm home on maternity leave or cleared out space in Annabel's closet, or taken more things we don't need to Goodwill.
I've been stalling. Or tredding water. Or wishing I could always keep Thing 2 with me inside, where I can feel him kick and squirm. I felt the same way about Annabel. I knew how quickly I'd forget the sensation (even then) and I was right. I forgot how it felt almost as soon as I stopped feeling it.
I suppose it didn't help much when the doctor pressed the doppler against my belly - now another pound bigger - and pronounced. "He's happy in there."