Yesterday I rolled into the 34th week of my pregnancy. A good friend of mine (best friend from high school) gave birth for the second time a few months ago, EARLY. In her 34th week of pregnancy. That baby was over 7 pounds, even six weeks early so, though he had to spend some extra time in the hospital which was hard on mom and dad (and probably sibs too), it is probably VERY good that she didn't carry him to term. She's not such a big lady and carrying a baby that would have been THAT big would have been... wow. Can't imagine.
My pregnancy this week update that I am now receiving by e-mail tells me that, at 34 weeks, my baby should be approaching 18 inches and nearly 5 pounds. As I read quotes from moms at 34 weeks I'm not recognizing myself in their experiences. Fatigue is a hallmark and... I'm not feeling it. (Even with an arduous paper writing week nearly put behind me. I am going out to lunch after a eucharistic service today and then going home to rest the rest of the day because I should, but not necessarily because my body is demanding it, which it usually does by the end of the week- I may change my mind in a few hours, we'll see.) And apparently other women start waddling at this point. I'm still not feeling all that big. And other women feel unbelievable pressure in their pelvic region or feel the baby pressing up into their rib cage, me, not so much. I guess, by this point, other women have car seat in the car and bags packed, nursery fully ready. By this point other women are overeager, more than ready for the baby to hurry up and get here. Not me. I'm content.
I'm wondering if my baby is smaller than normal, at the moment, or just incredibly kind and curled up nice and tight. I sort of think, given my relative smallness (somebody asked me this week if I was five or six months along- try six weeks from due!), and given family history, that this baby will come late. And that, at the moment, given my relative comfort, is fine with me. It will give me time to get my coursework done and get a nursery together and to enjoy my sister a bit before adding baby to the picture (she comes just before Thanksgiving and stays until Christmas). My mom has shared several times in this pregnancy how people kept telling her late in her pregnancy with me (her first) that she must be more than ready for the baby to come and she wasn't. She liked knowing I was safe inside her, liked being pregnant, and didn't need me to hurry up and get here. And considering I was born in early September, due two weeks earlier than I came, that is saying something. For a mom to want to still be pregnant in late summer... she must have wanted to be pregnant.
Maybe this will shift and I will start playing the "make the baby come" games. But with six weeks until due, Kev and I are telling the baby it is fine with us if he or she stays put for awhile, growing and becoming healthy and strong. And allowing papers to be written, space to be prepared, practice for labor to be undertaken. I am my mother's daughter at the moment. Even as I am becoming a mother...