Yeah. No baby yet. It’s all good, though.
Last weekend, out of boredom and irritation, I decided that I absolutely could not stand to spend another second in maternity clothes. They are scratchy and, like most things, not designed with my body in mind. Last pregnancy, I had court appearances up until the day before I went into the hospital (and five weeks after). So I spent most of my time in “business breeder” gear. I refused to wear a maternity suit, though. I have standards. But this time I had very few “lawyer” appearances while giantly pregnant. So, I packed up 98% of the Traveling Maternity Box of Goodness and Delight and will be sending it onward to the next lucky preggo recipient. In doing so, I found The Pants. The Magical Maternity Pants, that I think are actually pajama bottoms. Does that stop me from wearing them ’til they are covered in chocolate and almond milk? No. I shall wear them FOREVER.
I’ve kept a couple of things out, but really my go-to pregnancy uniform these days is one of several stretched-out scoop-neck t-shirts, a cardigan, and one of a stack of yoga-waist skirts I got from Old Navy many years ago and The Pants. At night I slip into my $5 velour yoga pants and whatever of my husband’s t-shirts looks the cleanest. None of these items are maternity. Which means that all of them are soft, reasonably well-made, and not some tacky shade of puce. None of them really fit either, but I figure if I can get most of my bits covered, I’m fine to go out in public.
And while last week I was a bit ragey and determined to be unpregnant; this week? I’ve reached a zen place with it all. After being head down and moving for weeks, the wee fetus Ozzy decided to get all transverse on me. Which, by the way, feels really awesome. And when I say ‘awesome,’ I mean pointy and gross. But on the happytimes side, there was cobbler AND I could eat it without getting sick.
And I did this for one glorious, quiet hour:
Note that I am wearing The Pants.
Going out in public these days mainly consists of going to the doctorbs. The “B” is for “bwhen am I going to have this baby?” Apparently no one has any clue. The good news is the perinatologist has now downgraded Ozzy from GIANTMONSTERBABY to large-ish but still reasonably sized baby. Ozzy measured 6 lbs, 14 oz yesterday. Which, while still bigger than either of my other two at delivery, is not terrifying. Anyhow, both docs were all ‘whatever’ as in I could have this baby tomorrow, or anytime over the next 4 weeks.
In the meantime, I think I will head back to the hammock…