Week 29

This has been a big week for milestones and new developments. If we could start with today and work our way back, that'd be great. After having nine hours of sleep, I woke up and ate breakfast with every intention of beginning my day after watching one 45 minute episode of my show. However, by the end of the episode I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, and retired to bed. THREE HOURS LATER, it was 1:45 and Texan called to ask about some plans we have tonight. I guess SJ is having a growth spurt or something, because I have cut back on napping lately. And that's not the only time this week my body has brought a normal day to an ear-shattering, screeching halt.

One night early this week, I laid down on my back in bed to read. (I know what all the books say about laying on your back after a few months of pregnancy. You'll cut off blood flow to the baby! You'll suffocate yourself!) But my doctor says those are phooey, and I digress. Well, reader, for the first time ever, I could not take a deep breath to save my life--pun intended. I sat up gasping, yawning, and doing whatever else I could to fill my lungs. It really wasn't all that dramatic, but I tried my hardest to figure out what position would allow me to breath comfortably. The answer? NO POSITION. But eventually those precious little body parts that were shoving my lungs up into my throat and making it impossible for me to inhale more than 60% moved back down, and all was well--until the next day. And now I notice that first thing in the morning is the best time for breathing. When I first wake up SJ is still and nestled all snug in her bed sack far away from my lungs. But she always finds a way to stretch back out and leave me breathless yet again. Oh, and forget about eating a full meal without going from, this is delicious, I think I'll have another helping. Straight to I think I may have to lie still until Thursday. There is no room in there for my stomach to be comfortably full. I'm either hungry, or comatose.

Despite the love/hate relationship with food, I think about it an awful lot. An inordinate amount of the time, actually. Today I have been thinking about those chocolate caramel Rolo candies. The ones wrapped in fall-colored foil sitting in a bowl on my coffee table in a leaf-shaped dish. Nothing like that exists in my house, but I'm imagining, wishing, dreaming that it did. I am not foolish enough to have a bowl of chocolate ANYTHING in my house. Or a bag, box, or any receptacle of chocolate. Sweets are my weakness, and so I do not keep them near me. This newfound strong-willedness will serve me well after giving birth. But for now it basically sucks. Oh, but at Christmas you can bet I will indulge myself. (Insert Homer Simpson "MMMMMmmmMMM" sound here. The one he makes when he finds a fuzzy lollipop in the couch cushion). Or just watch the first 30 seconds of the video below, and that's basically me...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFwv_mW8kIc

Have you ever met someone who is naturally clumsy? They trip over the most obvious of curbs, run into everything, and fall flat on their face because their own feet get in their way? I have. And non-pregnant Cara is not one of these people. Pregnant Cara, on the other hand? I have run into more door ways this week than I care to divulge. I can't go through the center of a doorway anymore. It's, like, impossible. The worst part is that I am both clumsy and emotional. So when I break something, I also break my heart in the process and can't stop crying over how angry I am that I broke something. And example? A plate that had been in the fridge (you know how it get's all cold and covered in condensation?) slipped out of my hand and broke into two perfect pieces. But my heart broke into A MILLION pieces and I cried for half an hour. The clumsiness is the absolute WORST part of my pregnancy. I will take it ALL and give back the clumsiness. So, I guess I'm pretty lucky.

In fun news, this week we had our maternity photo shoot and party planning for my baby shower is in full swing. We haven't seen any photos yet, since they were just taken on Saturday. So I am really hoping I don't look like a lard in any (half) of them. I would be happy if I look decent in half of them, yes. Texan thought that we should wait until my belly is bigger to take them, but I didn't want to risk looking behemoth. Speaking of Texan, he doesn't think this pregnancy is going fast enough at all. Twice or thrice this week he has said in his best dejected third-grader way, "I just want her to BE here already." And last night he even added, "If she were here right now, you would be skinny again and I would be holding her all the time." I laughed at that. I know Texan loves my belly. And I'm not talking feelings here. He actually loves (verb) loves it. He talks to it, rests his hand on it in church, tells me how good I look and how fast he thinks I'm going to bounce back after SJ's born. In fact, he has never paid me so many compliments in our whole relationship as he has in the past 30 weeks. But I also know that he loved the way I looked before, and would love to have that version of me back too. Don't worry, I would love that even more that he knows. Can't you just see it? Me standing around being skinny, unclumsy, taking deep and uninhibited breaths, and SJ sleeping in Texan's arms? It sounds like a fairy tale.

With only 11 weeks to go, I am already starting to feel nostalgic. I love being pregnant despite the few hangups. And it's pretty scary to think how much things are going to change in the new year.  Babysitters, pediatricians, diaper explosions, sleepless nights, and all of the unknowns have got my mind on overdrive. So I'm taking things one day at a time and enjoying all the little things along the way.