Yes, I'm still pregnant. Seems I may always be at this rate. I'm at 34 weeks now and there's really no update beyond the kid is still growing and so am I. There's my latest picture.
The fantastic part of this picture is that if you change my ballet flats to Doc Martens, this could be me in 8th grade trying my darnedest to recreate the lovely Bridget Fonda's role in Singles (I've even finally gotten the hair). God bless grunge. And Marcel pointed out that I apparently bought the same shirt for our little future rocker boy. I'm eating the apple to cover up my non made-up face as well as supplying great nutrients to the unborn one. Gold star mama.
We started our labour and parenting classes - last week was labour, tomorrow is parenting. I am now an expert in pain relief and the various positions of how to give birth. I was not aware that you had more options than the movie version of giving birth in bed. Oh no no, as I was squatting and leaning on a beanbag while Marcel massaged my back with a tennis ball and the lights were dimmed I found myself thinking "Yes, I can handle this giving birth nonsense." Something tells me when the real thing hits I'll forget all about the comfy positions and only focus on the drug lessons we learned. Bring them on.
I am exhausted if you haven't guessed. Only two more weeks of work I think, maybe three. And only six more weeks of pregnancy. I'll be glad to have my ligaments back in working, non-achy order. We have a 4-day weekend this weekend for Easter so I'm eager to get caught up on sleep and do little things like pack my bag for the hospital just in case I go early. I'd also kill to go a movie but there's absolutely nothing out worth seeing over here and my odd spot on my back hurts so bad in theatre seats that it's not worth the popcorn after all. Pregnancy is definitely a downer now & then.
I think I had other things to tell you but I can't remember them. Hmmmm ... we're still struggling with names. We settled on one but you know me, I can't stick to a decision if I make it too early so now I'm doubting that choice and we're back to trying out every name we hear on TV, radio or from random people. I have a feeling we'll have to decide in the hospital when we're looking at him and say "He looks like a potato." "What about Spud?" "It's perfect!" Apologies in advance to my son.