30 Weeks 5 Days

The numbers say I have just about 9 weeks to go until we get this show on the road. The way I have been feeling lately, I will feel lucky if he hangs out in there another month. I want a fall baby, and I want a baby that doesn't have to spend any time at all in the NICU, so I'm good with that.

We sorta skipped an appointment in there somewhere; we were supposed to be going every two weeks, and this one ended up being three weeks from the last. I forget why, but I remember the receptionist being flabbergasted that we wanted to make an appointment for later rather than sooner. Eh... Second baby syndrome, right? We're old pros. Anyway, it was today. We met another one of the midwives in the practice instead of our standard lady. Turns out, whomever is on call during the showdown is the one to come in and catch the kid; it could be anyone! So we have to meet them all, as if one fifteen minute meet-and-greet is going to help me feel more comfortable about who is poking around my area, pulling people out of me. She was nice though, and I'm not in a place to be choosy. She did bring up some interesting points, too. She had a list of questions to go through, one of which was the identity/relationship of my labor coach (aka the person trying desperately not to pass out by my side as I...you know what). My husband, Matthew, holds this high honor, I said. That is, until my mother-in-law arrives from Seattle to take over the care of my thirteen-month old. I'll be alone until she gets here. A sharp intake of breath. You know, she informs me, the second baby generally comes faster and if you're having a lot of pre-term contractions, your cervix may be more ready than you think when you come to deliver. Beg your pardon? Aurelia only took 8.5 hours to get out, from water breaking to gooey, purple baby laid on my chest. It's a 5.5 hour drive from Seattle. I could be doing the majority of this alone? I think not. I recall Patty getting to us exactly the time Aurelia was given to me; the cord hadn't been cut, she hadn't been cleaned, and there were Grandma and Grandpa shoving into a room full of nurses, my lower half crudely covered with a bloody sheet. I can imagine this same ill-timed entrance, except this time, it's the father of my son getting there just as it ends. I'm sure he would be pleased to miss the gore of it all, and I would never let him live it down.

In other news, Aurelia has figured out how to climb on the couch. You may think she is a late starter, but we have been adamant about keeping her off the furniture to this point. What better way to protect her little, falling-prone head from gravity than to keep her off high places? The honeymoon period is at and end, however, and she is blatantly proud of herself. She is also getting awesome at her shape-sorter, knowing what body parts go in what holes of her clothes, and that a purse, keys and shoes are what is necessary to go somewhere. Banging on the door once she's gathered her supplies has been less than satisfactory. She also knows that keys and doorknobs go together, and she is tall enough to reach. She would also much rather have food in her hair than a cute flowery barrette. We are also beginning to phase out our morning nap, and fusing what used to be two wonderful breaks for Mommy into one mediocre after-lunch snooze. (I have no idea what I'm going to do with two... the first six months may kill me.)

All in all, things is good.