According to ultrasound, the little guy has made it to five pounds. And even though it's just an estimate, the tech says she's usually fairly accurate - a few ounces either way, not the pound or so that I thought was the normal plus-or-minus range. So, good news, because five pounds is also the weight that seems to be a magical cutoff in terms of how the baby does out in the world. I will hit the 35 week mark on Sunday, then one more week of bedrest and I am free to be up and about and go into labor. Although I won't be doing any step-aerobics or, you know, trapeze work. And I have already decided that my husband might not get to know when I am technically allowed to resume normal activity - he still has plenty of carpooling/grocery shopping/etc. to do if he's going to make up for ignoring me in the hospital.
It was so gratifying to read all of your sympathies about that in the comments, by the way. I've been thinking a lot lately about how blogging works - that you get a self-selected group of people who share something about your experiences or your point of view or your sense of humor - whatever it is, there is something there that establishes a connection. That's why I can't understand the crappy anonymous comment - I mean, why bother reading at all if you
really don't have any common ground with the writer? And of course I don't mean the gentle nudges that some comments offer with the best intentions. Those are given within that sense of connection, and (at least in my case) appreciated. Anyway, what I really mean is that my husband is just lucky I have a good source for understanding and shared feelings - otherwise, things would be much, much worse for him! (And I'm lucky, too, of course.)
In other news, I am finally going to buy a crib mattress. It's just been hard to get these last things wrapped up with the specter of "placental abruption" hanging over me. I had a shower, which made a huge dent in my "to get" list, but the things that are left are kind of important. I am not the sort of person who needs to have every little piece of the nursery ready months in advance. I'll enjoy getting the details together while the baby is (hopefully) cuddled in some kind of baby-holding contraption. Or in a sling. Or whatever - the point is, I have never cared that all of my son's future teddy bears be lined up in rainbow-color order on the second shelf from the top before he is born. But it might be a good idea if I can put him in his crib (on an actual mattress) while I decide if I'm going to put up those Eames decals.
images from blik.com
They come in different colors and sizes, so it's a kind of mix-and-match project. I am definitely not a circus-parade-around-the-top-of-the-room kind of gal, but this could be good. Since we are in earth-quake land, I won't put any framed art near the crib or the glider, so that leaves something like a decal. For years, my daughter has decorated her room with her own drawings and things from friends just double-stick-taped to the wall. It's almost floor-to-ceiling, like a museum installation of kid-art, and it covers years of her favorite things. Occasionally she curates a bit, but mostly just adds the new things in where she can. But this next little guy may not be at that point for a while.
So, mattress. And after that I may try buying a crib sheet. Actually, that's a whole different post, since I may try making a crib sheet. Not because I'm the world's craftiest person, but because I can't find a crib sheet I like. Yes, I realize this may be a psychological block, and I'm working on it, really. See? I'm off to order the mattress right now...