I love being normal.  When it comes to your health, “normal” is the best word that can possibly describe you.  I went in for a routine check-up with my midwife and she said I couldn’t be more normal.  This statement made my whole day.

The baby was his normal self, meaning he was wily and mysterious.  The student midwife came over and tried to feel my belly for some sign as to Squishy’s position.  Squishy obliged her by giving her his impression of an octopus.  She said, and I quote, “It just feels like there are a whole bunch of limbs in there.”

(Thankfully, we already know he has two arms and two legs and that there’s only one baby in there, so I wasn’t concerned)

Poor student midwife then attempted to get a heartbeat for Squishy using the handheld Doppler.  Squishy thought that would be a good moment to start spinning around, thus making it impossible to get a good read on the heartbeat.

You’d think that my abdomen would confine this child enough to make it possible to corral him in one spot and get some measurements, but no.  My uterus is actually similar to the mountains of Afghanistan, and this afternoon it felt like they’d never find my wiggly little son.

My midwife came over to try her hand at figuring out what Squishy was up to.  She massaged, she pressed, she tried everything but the best she could come up with was that there was something up by my ribs, and something down in my pelvis, but it was anyone’s guess which one was his tuchus and which one was his head.

Personally?  I think he’s head down.  All the action I ever feel is up under my ribs or on my left side.  Then again, I’m a newb and I don’t know anything so don’t take that too seriously.

My midwife was able to get a good reading on his heartbeat, and she laughed because she said all the excitement from the Doppler chase and the belly palpitating had Squishy’s heartbeat up higher than normal.  Evading the authorities was probably the most fun he’s had all week!

The verdict from my midwife is that I’m normal and healthy as can be, and my son is mysterious.  I have every faith that when we take a peek at him for our ultrasound he’ll keep his face and brain hidden away from us again, because what fun is it to go to the doctor if they actually measure you?!

Fast forward a few years with me, will you?  When my mischievous and fiery little boy is climbing the curtains while I use the restroom, hiding his teacher’s cell phone because it’s funny, and drawing on Daddy’s face while Wes sleeps.

I never thought I’d say this, but I have the feeling Squishy will make me yearn for the halcyon days of pregnancy, when childcare didn’t involve fireproofing.

There was much gnashing of teeth this morning when I awoke to a grim discovery: The unusually cold weather, which has been an unwelcome and lingering guest for far too long now, had claimed another victim besides my skin.  Our trusty washing machine.

While Wes toiled at defrosting the pipes leading to the washer and engaged in some good old fashioned troubleshooting, I went off to work.  But not before being my typically gracious and loving self (which may have involved threatening to slam Wes’ head in the door if he didn’t stop telling me there was nothing he could do {Yeah, I don’t see why he married me, either.  It’s entirely possible I got far too little sleep last night, but that’s really no excuse}).

The reason I was so gracious and loving is that Wes and I were out late last night.  Partying.  Whooping it up.  Practicing swaddling.

Our first birth class went well.  We stopped by Panera for a little hot chocolate and brownie date and chatted with the guy at the counter who assured me that crack babies were indeed just myths and that I could enjoy a little rum in my hot chocolate if I wanted.  I rejoiced at my newfound freedom to indulge my crack habit but declined the rum.

The class itself was about breastfeeding and postpartum stuff.  We watched a really creepy guy show us the 5 S’s of soothing a fussy baby (swaddling, shushing, side laying, swaying, and sucking {You give them something to suck on.  You don’t suck on the baby.  That’s not soothing for anyone}) and then practiced the swaddling.

We discovered that I am pretty freaking rad at swaddling and can, in fact, make it look a lot like a kimono.  We also discovered that Wes can make anything look like a puppet, thereby giving me inappropriate giggles at inopportune times.

Unfortunately, the class we went to is from a series that started a few weeks ago.  The series we’ll be attending in January ends really close to my due date so, rather than risk missing the breastfeeding class, the instructor had me come to this one.  We made friends with some of the other couples but it was kind of sad since we knew we wouldn’t see them again.

The instructor did kind of ambush us with some shots of births accompanied by the Creed song “Arms Wide Open”.  Just for your future reference, when you’re watching a baby coming out of someone?  The last thing you want to hear about is anything being wide open, even if it’s just someone’s arms.