What can I really say about this week, other than that it’s been fabulous?  This was my first week of maternity leave, and the luxury of being home and relaxing has been astounding.  I feel so much more prepared, mentally and emotionally, to handle the waiting for and prospect of a newborn.

Physically, I’m doing great.  I have more energy now that it’s my job to rest (go figure) and I’m taking at least one walk a day in an effort to get labor started.  It’s working more or less, I suppose.  I’ve had a whole bunch of contractions this week, though with no pattern or discernible increase in intensity.

The baby’s head is still exceedingly low, and I’m starting to really feel this in the bones of my pelvis.  I’ve become inured to the pressure on the soft tissues of my pelvis, but my bones starting aching this week from what I can only assume is the constant pressure of a giant baby skull.

My midwife checked me out this week and she still says everything looks great.  I’m dilated to 1 cm, but that really doesn’t mean much because some people walk around for weeks dilated to 3 cm and still nothing happens.  My blood pressure is completely normal, I still have no swelling anywhere, and the baby sounds hearty and healthy.

We’re in all-systems-go, any-day-now territory, and we’re all just being held subject to the whims of a 7 lb (give or take a few ounces) baby boy.

Wes finalized the music for the birth this week, and that was a huge accomplishment.  He’s made three CD’s of pretty and serene classical music for me to listen to during early labor, when the contractions aren’t too intense and the most important thing for me to do is relax.

He also made two CD’s featuring my favorite repetitive and rhythmic song selections from a variety of different rock musicians.  These CD’s will be for active labor, when my brain will be consumed with dealing with the contractions but I’ll need a good strong rhythm to get me through them.

We’ll see if I end up liking the music we’ve picked out.  I’ve never been in labor before, so I’m unsure what I’ll want.  Still, it’ll be nice to have these around in case I do need them.

The one exciting thing that happened this week, but it turned out to be not very exciting at all, is that I thought my water broke.  But it didn’t.  Truly the last weeks of pregnancy are nonstop mystery, friends.  With strange aches, sensations, pains, and fluids, I think that if you’re not confused at least half the time when you’re in the final weeks, you probably aren’t paying attention.

Oh man, we’re really getting close now, aren’t we?  On Sunday my sister in law came up to me and reminded me that I have mere days left.  Days!  I’ve been so stuck thinking of pregnancy in terms of weeks that it never even occurred to me that we’re so close to the end now that our time remaining can be counted in terms of days!

This was a very vibrant week.  Squishy was in rare form, gamboling and kicking and punching.  He’s gotten rather fond of his newfound leg room (having dropped deep into my pelvis) and celebrates with surprisingly hard kicks that come out of nowhere.  His favorite time to do this is right when I’m drifting off to sleep.  It’s like he knows I’m trying to sleep.  Silly sabotaging baby.

He’s also refined his stretching techniques to point where they’re exquisite in a painful sort of way.  He stretches his legs straight up, and his head, of course, goes straight down, while I squirm and make strange faces and attempt to behave normally while all the while shouting in my head, “So weird so weird so weeeeeeeird!”

We had our last natural childbirthing class this week, and it was a bittersweet moment.  We’re glad to have Tuesday evenings back to ourselves, but will miss the camaraderie and learning opportunities.

At our class this week, our instructor had us practice pain coping techniques by holding tightly onto ice cubes.  We held the ice cubes to different body parts for at least a minute, and tried a variety of coping techniques to see which ones worked for us and which didn’t.

Wes uses music composition in his head to manage pain.  He writes music in his spare time, and it didn’t surprise me at all to learn that he coped with the pain of holding the ice cube by re-orchestrating a Bach fugue in his head.

I, on the other hand, favor the “zoning out” approach.  I fixate on a small spot of dirt on the floor, and my eyes unfocus and my mind drifts and whatever pain I’m experiencing simply ceases to exist.  We had to hold our hands submerged in a bowl of ice water for two minutes (to practice for coping with pain for the length of a transition contraction) and, thanks to a spot of dirt on the floor, Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”, and Wes’ foot rubbing, I barely even felt the cold.

We’ll see if I’m nearly so lucky in my ability to tune out pain when it’s contractions I’m feeling and not my hand freezing.

I’m still feeling pretty good, though I get more tired by the day.  Pregnancy insomnia was particularly brutal this week and, whereas I normally fall back asleep easily and quickly, I’ve spent more and more time laying awake after nocturnal bathroom breaks.  Naps are no longer luxuries but are necessities, though sometimes the insomnia prevents me from taking those as well.

Wes is so supportive of my naps, and belittles me not at all for sleeping when I could be folding laundry or helping with dinner.  I truly believe my pregnancy has brought out the best in him, and I’m so grateful for how he treats me that sometimes it hurts a little.  I would fall apart without him.

I’m also feeling more twinges and cramps and pains of mystery than I ever have before.  None of them are contractions (though the Braxton Hicks contractions are starting to feel slightly more uncomfortable than they used to) but they’re definitely curious.  I never really know what’s sending out pain signals or why, all I can do is shrug and consign the pains to the mystery file.

We packed our birth bag together this week, and when it was done we just kind of stared at it sitting in the living room.  It was done, packed, ready for a midnight dash to the birth center.  We’d crossed the final line, and we were really and truly ready.

Our days and nights are characterized by a kind of excited anticipation.  We’re so very close to the end of this pregnancy, and it makes the time we have remaining as a family of two special, sweet and fleeting.

Full term.  Full term full term full term!  When I think of what this week of pregnancy was like for me, that’s what comes to mind.  Just an overwhelming feeling of relief that we made it to full term, and that Squishy is welcome to make his debut any time he likes.

This is also the week Wes got himself a job offer, so maybe the relief is bleeding over from that too.  Either way, I’m feeling good.  The nursery is done, the baby clothes and cloth diapers are washed, the carseat is installed, and we’re officially ready.

Of course, I’d still like Squishy to stay put until after Valentine’s Day.  I’ll have all my work wrapped up, he’ll have had time to chub up, and we’ll have finished our birthing classes.  We’ll see if he decides to cooperate.

Squishy is doing really well this week.  I think he was having a growth spurt last week, because he was pretty mellow, but he’s back to his usual antics this week.  Lots of lovely kicks and knees to the ribs, still more pummeling from his tiny hands as I’m drifting off to sleep.

My midwife, during my weekly check-up, remarked that he still feels really long to her.  Even though his head is very far down in my pelvis his little butt is still tucked up firmly by my ribs.  I’m not growing out, I’m growing up!  My uterus has grown so far up into my ribcage, in fact, that she can no longer properly measure the top of it because it’s stuck under my ribs.

This is exactly as comfortable as it sounds.

Things I can no longer do:

• Check my blind spots while driving without pinching an important organ with my ribs
• Laugh without pain (apparently you can actually tear the muscle that holds your diaphragm against your ribs. Who knew?)
• Sit up straight (must have back arched at all times or face the wrath of my organs)
• Sleep the night through (after the second bathroom break I can’t fall back asleep)
• Wear my largest maternity jeans (they’re too tight across the top of my uterus!)

I had a dream about Squishy this week.  I dreamed that he was here, and had long blond hair and the brightest blue eyes ever.  I handed him off to someone to hold, and the guy returned my baby to me, only my baby was a fried egg.  I wrapped the fried egg in a blanket and then I woke up.

Not sure what that means.  I severely doubt that our baby will be blond, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility thanks to a great many members of my family on my mother’s side being blond.  I’ve prepared Wes for the fact that it’s entirely possible for two dark-haired parents to produce blond offspring, lest he start getting ideas about me and the mailman.

I suppose the thing I’m feeling most right now is peace.  I’m at peace.  Wes has an excellent job, our nursery is ready for this little man to come home, my body is doing a fabulous job taking care of my baby (seriously, this has been the model pregnancy. My blood pressure is low, no swelling, iron levels look good, no diabetes.  Believe me, I know exactly how lucky I am) and I’m almost ready to give Squishy the all clear to come out.

Almost.  He just needs to give me a few more days and then we’ll be home free.  Of course, it’s entirely possible that I’ll start my maternity leave on the 15th, thinking the baby could come any time, and then not go into labor until March.  We’ll see how peaceful I’m feeling then.