This pregnancy has been hands down the toughest physically, but only as of about a month ago. If you’d have asked me in the springtime how I was handling quattro bing’s gestation I would have assured you it was no big deal, really. And I would have been telling the truth!
Aside from the endless rounds of sinus woes and bronchitis that seemed to plague much of the northern hemisphere this past winter, I had almost zero pregnancy complaints of the physical variety. I don’t get morning sickness, just a touch of meat aversion, and my 1st and 2nd trimesters were pretty much like “baby? what baby?
I think I even obnoxiously gloated/wondered aloud on FB over having gained only 4 lbs in 19 weeks.
Suffice it to say things have sped up in both the weight gain department (oh em GGGGGGGGGEEEEE how they’ve sped) and the realm of physical taxation. I grunt when I rise and when I collapse to sleep. I leave things on the floor from time to time because it’s not worth it. I sit constantly, and then I get up because sitting all the time really hurts your back, it turns out. And the 2 miles or so I can limp along on the treadmill some nights actually make me feel so much worse, physically, that my gymtendence has dropped to 2-3 times per week. And that’s with PRIME new episodes all over HGTV, plus free babysitting.
In other words, I’ve arrived, prematurely, at the end of my procreative rope.
Yesterday I wept in a King Sooper’s parking lot, inside the store itself, and then copiously in my bed in a large pile of very, very hot mess which my very, very wonderful husband scooped up with soothing back pats and kleenex.
And there’s a good month and a half till d day. So, why all the complaining? Why am I not offering it all up like a good little soldier?
Well, I’m trying. But I’m also like, there have got to be other women who feel this way. And who are routinely sacrificing what could be precious rest + recharge time in favor of spray painting everything and rearranging the entire house.
So my question to you, gentle reader? Where does the last leg of preg leave you? Limping along armed with a can of Krylon and doing all the home decorating your hefty little heart can handle? Or passed out on the couch under a bag of ice, counting the minutes until bedtime. Or maybe a combo?
Oh, since you didn’t ask, here are some nursery pictures because I’ve been burning what little energy I have during the daylight hours mothering my existing exterior brood, writing, and rehabbing thrifted rejects into a not-quite-but-so-close-to-Pinterest-worthy nursery.
Okay, now drop your expectations so they’re commensurate with a $150 budget and a fourth born child who will be arriving into a rental house.
Now are you ready?
First up we have the Shermag glider I snagged from Craig, washed the h out of (even the interior cushions. Stupid. And yet…the stank of an entire bottle of Febreeze doused by the seller has just about abated. So maybe not so stupid?). I paid $100 for it and it’s the dreamiest rocking experience I’ve ever known. I love how high the arms are for maximum nursing support, though I’m strongly tempted to load up on Whole Food’s finest ($10!!) formula and call it a day. Strongly.
See that sweet little rabbit? A gift from my sister in law, newly repatriated from a 3 year stint in Cambodia. Doesn’t he look like a little asian velveteen rabbit?
And the boys surrendered their decoupaged (not by me. So not.) saint dresser which baby will be grateful for, since it’s the ultimate diaper changing station + linen closet + dresser.
Found the deflated Pottery Barn pad cover atop it at Saver’s this week for $1, now I’m just waiting for Amazon to drone me the changing pad itself and we’ll be solid.
Next up? The crib (given to us by another family in our parish small group – so generous and already assembled. Except, um, we had to pretty much dissemble it in the hallway because babe, it will totally fit down the hallway and around that 90 degree corner, let’s just try…at 9 pm on Father’s Day, no less. Wifey of the year up in here.
Cute, huh? I’m telling myself the mismatched wood tones are super chic. And yes the evil drop side, such danger, much reckless. Got it.
The bedding is the same we’ve used for all three kids, purchased by my sweet MIL when Joey was still an unknown gender ? in my womb. And I stole the cute jute rug from Genevieve’s abode.
While this room looks fairly manly, I promise to throw some lavender in there if baby comes out with lady parts, but I’m strongly leaning towards XY right now, and I think it shows in the decor. And in my insatiable weight gain + related cravings for Salsa Verde Doritos dipped in hydrochloric acid.
This piano bench? Sewing table? Preschool altar? was $9.99, also at Saver’s, and I was quite taken with its svelte legs and hinged, opening top. I envisioned stashing my phone/kindle/granola bars/prayer materials in there for handy access during nursing sessions. $8 worth of spray paint and some light distressing and it turned out pretty cute, don’t you think?
Last but not least, all your fine recommendations and hearty endorsements convinced me and my aching back that the Maxi Cosi was the way to go, so I’m now the proudest owner of this little black number, which is easily 5 pounds lighter than the Graco dinosaur in our garage.
(On a related note, anyone in Denver want a 3 year old Graco red/grey model with 2 bases? Free to a mediocre home)
And that’s the nursery, in under a thousand words and 10 grainy pictures. I’d still love to put some flowing white drapes up to frame out the skinny window, but other than that I’m supremely satisfied with it and can’t wait to plop a fat baby directly into that crib on our first night home from hotel hospital.
Next on my nesting agenda: attacking baseboards, steam cleaning all the carpets, and keeping a wary eye for anything that looks remotely in need of a fresh coat of spray paint. And maybe a bath.