The good news is my baby is growing nicely. Maybe too nicely.
I was 32 weeks yesterday, and this baby is measuring 33 weeks and 4 days. I should say here that my babies never measure large. If anything, they are small. I was a little alarmed when my doctor told me this month and last that my tummy was measuring ahead...she said this is normal for moms of multiple children. However, this is not normal for me. I don't think I've ever measured "typically" much less ahead. This entire month I kept telling Sam it must be my age, because I don't feel like I have 7-8 weeks left, I feel like I have 3-4. I'm waddling, I'm contracting, I'm sore, I can't sleep comfortably. Waah waah waah.
So yesterday, while the ultrasound tech was measuring this little chunkeroo, I looked at the size of its head and asked how everything was looking. He said everything measured ahead and the baby is weighing about 4 pounds 12 ounces. I gasped and said I HAVE 8 WEEKS TIL MY DUE DATE. I told him all of my babies weigh between 5-7 pounds at birth. He just kept casually moving the wand over my protruding tummy and kind of chuckled. "Uh, no, this baby will in the 8's at term." "IN THE 8'S???" I grabbed his arm and employed the death grip. I'm not kidding.
I totally understand there are dozens of women reading this who have had multiple children weighing 8 pounds, 9 pounds, even 10 pounds.
I'm not one of you.
My biggest of ten children was 7 pounds 13 ounces and I felt every.single.ounce. of him coming out.
The baby before him was 5 pounds 13 ounces.
A little while after I delivered my almost 8 pounder, I turned to the nurse and asked, "What was THAT? That hurt !"
She laughed and said, "That was called labor, sweetie. You've just probably never experienced it."
I've had a baby slide out under the covers...most of my other babies required maybe 2-5 hard pushes.
Jackson (the one I just referred to) was work. I remember hearing a weird groaning noise while I was pushing (I never make a sound during labor or delivery) and I looked around like- where did that come from ? Apparently it was me. I apologized afterwards to everybody for groaning. But that sound was instinctive! Because a locomotive was coming through my body, and it felt very disproportionate to little me.
I also want to insert here that every time I meet a reader in person, they are always shocked at how short I am. I don't know if photos paint a different story, or if people just have someone else in mind when they think of me...but once I met a reader and she exclaimed "You're short ! I was expecting this tall willowy woman !" Sorry to disappoint. I am short, and when I'm not pregnant I wear a size 2 in jeans. In other words, I'm not just short, I'm scrawny.
So for me, the thought of delivering an 8 pound baby is causing waves of anxiety and yes, hysteria.
After the tech announced this little piece of news as if nothing earth shattering was just revealed, I turned to Sam with panic in my voice- "SAM ! ARE YOU LISTENING ?!" I was sure this was somehow his fault.
"What's a pound or two more? Big deal ! Piece of cake, babe!" I believe were his words.
"Picture pushing an entire block of butter out your pelvic bones- on top of seven more of those - there is a HUGE difference !"
Sam just blinked at me as if his wife just morphed into a raging gorilla...
"And have you ever PUSHED a baby out ??? EVER ?!?!" I sort of yelled at him. Okay I did yell. I think the tech was praying he wouldn't have to break up a fight in his little ultrasound room.
Sam just shook his head and laughed nervously, mopping the sweat off his brow and leaning back in his chair ...maybe it was to get away from me.
"Didn't think so !" I said and turned back to the screen to stare at Monster Baby. At that point the tech had switched to 3d, and the skeletal features of Monster Baby suddenly dissolved into a very distinctive looking person.
And it was then that I realized the impossible was happening.....
I am giving birth to my husband.
There on the screen, a brown and white smaller version of Sam appeared, cozily nestled up to the side of my uterus.
I turned to Sam to make sure he was still there, and that the ultrasound tech wasn't waving the gel-laden wand across his face in an attempt at humor. But no, there was Sam, staring at the screen as well, and there on the screen was a mirror image of him.
We still don't know the gender, but if this is a girl, she will have to be dressed in pink for the rest of her life if she doesn't want to be mistaken for her father.
So now we wait to see who this
Because if I close my eyes and remember Jackson's birth, and the groan that accompanied it, and the way I felt for several days after pushing him out...a visible shiver washes over me.
Ask Sam. He witnessed it in the hospital cafeteria yesterday while we ate frozen yogurt and discussed gender predictions after the ultrasound.
"STOP thinking about it," he instructed... and then shivered himself. Because I think I got that raging gorilla look in my eyes again, before I dissolved into tears.
He's prayed with me about twenty times since leaving the hospital, and I'm sure he'll do so about a thousand times more before I deliver....and thankfully he never gets tired of giving me pep talks and reassuring me that God will help us through this, just like He always has. He bought me a hot tub, a new mattress set, and is doing all the grocery shopping for the next few months. What else could a mama ask for ???
P.S. Hey Sam, if you're reading this...a trip to Hawaii couldn't hurt.