36 weeks pregnant: Merry Christmas, baby

Oh how I love the Christmas season. The tree, the decorations, browsing the holiday section of Target for hours while my Jewish husband quietly weeps in boredom. This year has been especially good because I got to decorate our new house for the first time. And I'm pregnant so when Joe asks if we really need to get stockings to hang I can say YES, which translates to YES and also shall I remind you that I'm busy creating your tiny human heir? And into the cart the stockings go.

Luckily Joe likes plants-- we've had a wide variety of potted plants all named "Planty" over the years-- so he's enjoyed having a live(ish) tree in our living room this month. Joe also inexplicably likes choosing lightbulbs (cue me weeping quietly from boredom while Joe wanders the lightbulb aisle of Lowe's) so he was able to help pick out the tree lights that best minimized the chances of me setting the house on fire.

I even tried to make the tree a little more Hannukah friendly by decking it out in blue, white and silver. Perhaps next year we'll strap a menorah to the top. Too much?

Pregnancy continues to putter along, no big changes there. After squishing around my belly recently, one of the midwives commented that although the baby is indeed lodged way up in my rib cage, he has plenty of room in there. And I was like really? Because sometimes I feel like I'm going to cough up a baby foot.

In good news, my morning sickness finally eased up sometime last month, though I've been afraid to mention it in case the pregnancy gods say, "Oh right, forgot about that! Here, puke a little more." So just keep that on the down low, okay?

Happy Holidays, everyone!

35 weeks pregnant: The Rib Cage Inn

My favorite pregnancy encounter happened around this time, where a stranger touched my belly and then proceeded to stare at me awkwardly and silently for several seconds. I starred back at her, bewildered. Finally she said, "I'm going to ask you a question." and I thought how nice, because I'm going to punch you in the face.
Her: Are you pregnant?
Me: Um, yes.
Her: I thought so but I couldn't tell if you were just heavy.

Excuse me, what? How many heavy people are tiny except for their WATERMELON SIZED BELLY? I'm either pregnant or have some sort of deadly medical condition. But wait! It gets better!

Her: So how far along are you?
Me: About 35 weeks now. Almost 36.
Her: So... about 6 months pregnant?
Me: ....

Yes, because six times four CLEARLY equals 35. Basic math skills for the win!

This trumped my former favorite pregnancy moment, when an old lady (who had previously seen me and scolded me for not having gained enough weight, TEETH GNASH) approvingly told me that I was getting "nice and fat". Just what every pregnant lady dreams of hearing!

Baby continues his comfortable stay in The Rib Cage Inn. He has pretty much been curled up in my right side the entire pregnancy and must be crushing some sort of crucial nerve connected to my right leg, as that leg frequently cramps and turns to jelly when I'm trying to exert myself too much, like say, moving in any sort of way. Joe and I were trying to book it back to the car recently when it was freezing out and I had to slow way down and hobble along instead because my leg was giving out. I'm sure I looked like a pregnant polio victim.

On the upside, traveling was marginally nicer than usual over Thanksgiving because everybody takes pity on limping pregnant ladies. Except for the TSA agents who continue to preform the most awkward full body pat downs in the history of life. "Is there anywhere sore on your body that I should know about?" (Blank stare while I gesture to my entire pregnant body) "Right, okay. I'm going to be touching your inner thighs now..." Yes, TSA agent, because everyone knows that pregnant ladies always hide their explosives in their inner thighs, magically concealed by maternity leggings. Just wait until you see where I have hidden the unicorn.

34 weeks: a photo

Probably the best part of a maternity photo shoot is that someone is constantly yelling at you to stick your belly out as far as possible and it feels like a compliment. I'm pleased with most of the pictures I got out of it, though the photographer was very much into having me mostly naked and draped in bed sheets. And since I want a job in the future, I thought maybe I shouldn't share those with a million strangers. You're welcome, son.

33 Weeks: "Do you have a tummy ache?"

Behind on everything, as per usual. Joe and I just got back from a little vacation where we visited Joe's friend Brian in Ohio and my pal Katie in Kentucky for a couple weeks. Apparently I suck at taking pictures on vacation so you'll have to imagine my belly for weeks 31 and 32. I assure you that it was very much the same, though possibly slightly smaller since it had not yet been stuffed with vacation food. I'm looking at you, pickle flavored Pringles.

Continue to be pregnant and such. Also, two of my coworkers are also now pregnant so it appears I am slowly infecting everybody with fertility germs. It is nice to have people to commiserate with while I check the fridge for the 10th time to see if anything new has magically appeared. We mostly fantasize about bringing in bean bag chairs so we can arrange a pregnant napping station. And exchange a lot of texts along the lines of, "SO TIRED. HATE EVERYTHING." 

I've officially gotten to the awkward stage of pregnancy where moving around is difficult. It is now an athletic feat for me to hoist myself out of the bathtub and bending over is my least favorite activity. I recently was curling my hair with hot rollers and dropped one while I was taking them out of my hair. As I watched it roll under the couch, I seriously considered the option of waiting two months or so to retrieve it. 

Baby also seems to have reached an awkward stage where he is running out of places to go. Apparently he has already rearranged all my internal organs and has now decided that he should take up residency in my rib cage. I now rest one of my hands on the top of my belly most times and appear to be a serene pregnant lady. In reality, I am just constantly dislodging little baby feet from my ribs. 

People continue to be overly comfortable approaching me about my pregnancy, including a teenage shop clerk who began quizzing me about my birth plans while I was trying to pick out a Halloween costume. Listen, braces face, your wondering aloud about how much child birth must suck is really not improving my shopping experience. I get a lot of, "Wow! You're so tiny!" and-- most annoying-- "You need to gain more weight!" This comment aggravates me the most, since my weight gain is right on track and my belly is measuring exactly where it should be. I tend to be a perfectionist so when people tell me I need to gain weight I'm like NO DAMNIT, I'M ACING THIS WHOLE WEIGHT GAIN THING. LOOK AT THE WEIGHT GAIN GRAPH I HAVE ON MY IPHONE. 

In contrast, my favorite pregnancy comment from a stranger has been from my boss's little girl who saw my pregnant belly and asked me, "Do you have a tummy ache?" Adorable. And also fairly accurate. 

Now I am working on Christmas-itzing the house and am looking forward to having my first real Christmas tree in our little house. Joe is not so thrilled, something about him being Jewish or something. I'm not sure, the Christmas music was drowning everything else out.