39 weeks 2 days . . . and a post that proves it

Sorry for the crappy picture. . . but at least you get a picture this time! This is me today on my last day of work! I've been working from home for the last two weeks, which allowed me to stretch out my time at work so I didn't have to take leave two weeks before. Working from home was a lot better than working at work, but it still sucks to work when you're close to popping.

I look like I have a tiny head and huge body lol. I am pretty disproportionate at this point.

As proof, here are my huge feet:

I know they don't look huge, but they are swollen and sausage-y looking. Normally, my feet look like skinny ugly things, but now they look like normal sized feet. With tubby toes.

I cannot even tell you how badly I want this child out of me right now. If I could reach up there and pull him out myself, I would. In fact, I might have tried once or twice, but it's touch to get my arm around the huge belly I am sporting. The stretchmarks are slowly creeping upwards as each day passes. Its a race to the finish between the stretchies and BabyJoe. Whoever makes it to the light of day first, wins! The stretchmarks are pretty close to making it beyond my waistline. I'm reallllly hoping BabyJoe wins. GET THIS KID OUTTA ME!!!!

It's been hot like Africa here in CT lately, so that doesn't help matters either. What does help matters is my fabulous Mr. Joe. Look what this man bought for me as my birthday slash push present:

I'm sorry that it's teeny tiny, but I suck at posting pictures on blogger. Isn't it the BEST THING EVER???? I've been drooling over the Disney Sketch Dooney and Bourke large tote bag for ever - but the steep price made it a distant dream. Mr. Joe is THE BEST HUSBAND ever. You can't tell from the picture, but this bag is the perfect size to work as a hospital bag, or a diaper bag, or a work bag. I am going to use it for EVERYTHING. I am in love. Currently, it stands ready with all the crap I want to take to the hospital. Which I will hopefully be leaving for any time now. Mr. Joe is making ginger root tea as we speak in an effort to get BabyJoe out before tomorrow, which happens to be my 29th birthday. Fingers crossed this works. I know this post is kind of all over the place. So is my brain.

Still preggo

Sorry I've been so quiet as of late. Work is crazy because the company whose disability claims I handle are planning to go on strike, so the would be strikers are grasping at straws to get on disability so they would be paid should they strike. Which means I am denying claims for things like bee stings and fevers, in addition to the people who are ACTUALLY disabled.

The good news is I have been working from home, which means I don't have to wear pants at work! It does mean that I have to answer the door when evangelists or lawn care experts come knocking, so I do have to wear some kind of clothing - but not pants so yay!

Today is a day off for me. I had an appointment yesterday with Dr. Kellie Martin (what was I calling my dr on here? I don't remember anymore) and she determined that BabyJoe is . . . wait for it . . .

8 FUCKING POUNDS.

Please pardon my French, but great googaly moogaly that seems like a giant baby. I know those estimates can be off, but the thought of an 8 pound baby coming out of my hooha has me rethinking my natural childbirth plan. I'm now thinking Ronnie's idea of knocking me out with a kick to the face is sounding pretty good.

Also, I'm ONE CENTIMETER dilated!! I realize that one measly cm is nothing, but I'm trying to get worked up over here so I go into labor before I give birth to a baby that rivals that one in TX. You know the 16 pounder? There's no coming back from 16 pounds.

So I called out today and I'm planning on walking all over creation and possibly getting a pedicure because my feet have seriously been neglected since about 3 months ago. I have already taken care of my lady parts via a wax last week. Word to the wise? Being pregnant makes you sweat a lot more, and if you're anything like me and you sweat in response to pain, you will end up looking like you are suffering from malaria by the end of your appointment. Which is to say, don't make plans to go out directly afterwards. Your crotch might look fabulous, but you will look silly.

Wanna see what I look like at 38 weeks?

Haha tricked you! Although this is an accurate depiction. Please note my lack of pants in this picture and my nasty feet. That's pretty much what I look like now, except I'm not wearing a turtleneck. I was too lazy to fix my drawing. I worked pretty hard on it for you and now I am going to take a nap. Right after I do Mr. Joe's laundry, because before he left for work this morning, he so kindly dragged out his hamper for me because he knows just how badly I have been aching to wash his clothes. I am such a lucky lucky lady.

Pray that I go into labor soon. My lady parts thank you!

Dear BabyJoe

Sometimes, I wonder what the hell I am doing here.

The truth is, I was blinded in the beginning by the deep and physical ache that was my empty uterus. You were just a dream- an all-consuming thought. You still are.

The difference is that now you are physically coming. I can no longer deny that I will not carry you forever. You are quickly running out of room and we are both clearly ready to meet on the outside. I'm not sure I'm ready to share you. You have been my very own for 9 months now, really two years - my deepest desire, my (not so) little secret. I know you like no one else on Earth. Who would want to share that?

I worry that I am not up to the challenge of being a mother. I'm pretty sarcastic. I hate baby talk. I am terrified that I will turn you into a cynical asshole and I don't want to do that. I want to be the best mother that ever lived, but I'm completely clueless on how to be that person. I want to give you the world - the only fair trade after what you have given me.

I have physically carried you over these last few months, but you have carried me for the last two years. You have caused me to fall deeper in love with your father. You've given me the husband that I've always known him to be. You are my own personal miracle, and I will never be able to show enough gratitude. But I promise that I will try.

You are coming. As terrifying as this is, I am comforted by the thought of you here. Each week I hear your heartbeat and imagine that it is the sound of your tiny feet hitting the pavement, hurtling towards me, unafraid. So when you get here, I will pretend that I am ready, too. That I know exactly what I am doing and its under control. I am not the first person to have a baby. I am just the first person to be your mother. I know I can't keep you forever - but I promise to hold on to you for the rest of my life.

See you soon,

Mom