Thirty-One.

It seems unreal... we're in single digits no matter how you slice it, 38 weeks or 40. 

I can't decide if it took forever or if time is flying by.  I will say that there's a lot to get done in the next 8-9 weeks.  There's a portable crib in storage that needs to be retrieved and spruced up.  There are more diapers to buy and prep for use.  And there's cleaning to be done.

I'm pretty resigned to the fact that there are things we need to do before we can go crazy on the baby buying (swing, pack & play,etc) - we have a vehicle to repair, a tree to remove, and a mouse to evict.  Mr. Mouse is extremely stubborn and avoiding all the traps we've laid, humane and otherwise, so it looks like we're going to need a pro to do the trick.  So I'm focusing on the basics and the rest we'll get when we can.

Because that's what I needed right now, yes?  But that's not really why I'm a bit stressed.

Scary Baby scared me again.

Just when I thought I was used to his shenanigans and insistence on peculiar little things like me sleeping ONLY on my right side... he woke me up by kicking the crap out of me.  I mean, seriously.  It was so hard that it WOKE.  ME.  UP.  And it was really frantic and frenetic.  And then, all of a sudden, it stopped.

Just like that.

And in my semi-conscious state, all I could think was, "Oh, shit... he just strangled himself with his cord."

Seriously - I wasn't calm, I wasn't entertaining any other possibilities, I wasn't capable of doing anything but lying there, numb and prepared to be shattered.  I have no idea why I fixated on that as the answer (probably Ivan's baby story?) but I was convinced that was it.

And I waited and waited and waited, tears spilling over, whole body tight so I wouldn't wake Ivan up by crying.

And finally he moved again, tentatively at first, but then with strength and enthusiasm. 

He's grounded as soon as he's old enough to understand why.

Honestly, I've been pretty mellow throughout the different scary scenarios we've had - waiting for test results, falling down the steps, spotting early on, dealing with my shortness of breath and dizziness.  But this tore my composure, my strength, my assurance.  I am now terrified that I won't get to meet him until it's too late. 

And most of the time, I can cope and put on my happy face and fake it, because I know that doing this will help me get through the day while I do my kick counts and watch my diet to make sure I'm getting enough iron and all the other little things I can control.

But I hate going to bed now, and not just because it's the most painful part of my day (stupid hips and stupid sciatica). Now when I wake up, even if it's just to pee, I can't relax until he moves.

So I really can't decide if it's taking forever, or flying by.  Either way, I'll be glad when I can actually see what the little monster is up to without the use of an ultrasound.