We've agreed on a name, so unless a miraculous new name comes along (or he turns out to be a she), this jumpy baby is officially labeled.
This week's food analogy: baby is like a big coconut with arms and legs -- around 16 inches long and 3-4 pounds. He'll be doubling his weight in the next eight weeks.
His bones are fully developed. His wide-open eyes are getting ready for birth, gaining the bluish color he'll probably be born with. His constant kicking, somersaulting, and hiccuping is the driving force for my nausea, insomnia, and heartburn. Have I mentioned heartburn? HEARTBURN. In the all-star wrestling match between my lungs, uterus, and bladder, it isn't a surprise that the uterus is by far the victor.
Although he's getting long, he has some plumping up to do before delivery. He may be practicing breathing with amniotic fluid. His brain is online -- processing information, tracking light, and perceiving signals from all five senses. His central nervous system can probably control his body temperature now.
For my 32-week appointment on Wednesday, I need to alert the doctor to the frequent Braxton Hicks contractions I've been having, along with some sharp abdominal pain, so that we keep an eye out for pre-term labor. I'm all for delivering before the due date, just not this far before it.
I'm eager for the appointment in a few weeks that will determine the baby's exact position and whether or not I'm dilated already. At the same time, I wish pregnancy wasn't going so fast. This is probably the last time I will ever be 31 weeks and 2 days pregnant. These are the last months of my life that I might feel this big alien movement under my skin. It's the last time Fletcher will be an only child.
The baby stuff we have is pretty much unpacked and ready, which means I have to unpack for myself now. And next on the list is to get my hospital bag ready.
Nesting in a new house when I have to spend all my time working is an insane endeavor. Similarly, I contacted the school district to get Fletcher's therapy set up, and now I'm basically telling them that I can't fit it into our schedule. Unless we win the money or grandparent lottery, Andy and I are going to raise our children by not sleeping. Apparently. Something has to give by wintertime.
