I’m told that one’s third trimester baby can hear and recognize their parents’ voices, and that if you play a particular kind of music at this point in your pregnancy your baby is likely to find that music soothing after he is born. (Mom, Dad, did you listen to a lot of Pink Floyd before I was born?) Anyway, if that’s truly the case, then I am somewhat concerned that little Xerxes is going to come out of the womb expecting his parents to be Steve Inskeep and Renee Montagne. That, or I’m pre-programming him to enjoy rocking out to public news radio…. During my long-ish 6:30 AM commute (and increasingly during the return trip) I find that I’m usually not awake enough to want music, so I’ve been tuning into NPR pretty often and letting Morning Edition (and whatever afternoon/early evening programming I happen to hit) keep me company.
As of today, Xerxes has been cooking for 34 weeks. He’s learned two new tricks lately: hiccoughing until his mom goes crazy, and stretching his legs(?) as far as he can into my right side until I get a backache. BabyCenter.com says he’s 18 inches long and 4.75 pounds; WhatToExpect.com puts him at 20 inches and 5 pounds. At this point, were his stork to catch a tailwind and show up early, Xerxes might have to spend a little bit of time in the hospital but would be just fine, assuming no other health problems.
I think Ryan actually wants to name him Xerxes. I’d better make sure that I’m in the room when they come by with the paperwork.
I am definitely dealing with fatigue, although I don’t know how much of that is pregnancy, how much is the time change, and how much is lingering effects from this germ. At the same time, I’m getting a nice burst of mental energy, which I’m currently applying toward getting things ready at work for maternity leave. My physical energy completely runs dry by the time I get home, which is frustrating when my mental energy would prefer I tidy the house or go to a store instead of crash on the couch. Too bad for me, though — I don’t get to do either of those things most days! Who knew the last couple of months of pregnancy would be so busy? We signed up for a natural childbirth class (tonight is the last meeting) that I’m actually rather liking, and of course doctor’s appointments are increasing in frequency now.
Plus, this Friday is my baby shower! I’m excited.
I’m also becoming aware that my stress levels are pretty high. School is wearing on me, things around the house are starting to bother me, and Drama Llama has recently invited himself into my life and is running amok. One of the consequences of this is that I’ve been accessorizing my outfits (most of which are starting to fit poorly, and all of which are boring me to tears) with some pretty large, painful cold sores. Yay.
Anyway! Last night I had a dream in which I came up with a Brilliant Business Idea. Ryan and I were shopping in my dream, and we were looking at a new line of purses. They were large and roomy, but attractive. As we looked through them, we discovered that these were purses especially made for and marketed to pregnant women. There were all of these handy little compartments, kind of like with a diaper bag only not intended for the baby. There was a pocket just the right size for a bottle of Tums, and an insulated pouch for a water bottle or chocolate bar. There was (of course) a place just the right size and accessability for a cell phone, but also one about the right size for a standard pregnancy book (is it just me, or are they all exactly the same size?). There was a place for lotion, a tiny little pocket for tea bags or ginger drops — really, just about anything a pregnant woman lugs around with her, there was a designated place for it in this bag. The coolest thing, though, was that there was a built-in stethoscope so that you could listen to your baby’s heartbeat. And the stethoscope was covered in matching leather with the bag, and designed to look like a tassel…
So yeah. I think someone should probably make these and become a millionaire, and then give me some of the money. I’m not asking for much. Maybe enough to get a nice second car with four doors and a roomy back seat?
Oh, here’s your weekly lousy photograph of me. Today, Dumbledore is in it too.