Swinging, as in mood swings. And not so much swinging as a general tendency towards irritability. Directed mainly at Gadget. Of course. It doesn’t help that he snaps back, rather than graciously understanding and accepting that I’m at the mercy of raging hormones, and this is just another stage in the journey. See how cleverly I don’t take any responsibility for my behavior?
Swelling. As if there wasn’t enough of that already. It seems to contribute to the full body aches. The weight is climbing rapidly now, as evidenced by the indentations left in my skin from even the least amount of pressure. I decided to rest for a while around 8:30 p.m., fell asleep until 10:30, awoke with hands numb, tingling, and swollen. I might have tried to continue sleeping, except I’d forgotten to administer my insulin and I decided I ought to drink more fluids in an attempt to address the swelling situation. Then I started thinking of this, that, and the other thing (we shall call it nesting), so couldn’t go back to sleep anyway.
Nesting. Instead, I emptied two kitchen drawers and filled them with bottles, breast-pump supplies, burp towels and bibs. The diaper station is well on its way to being nicely stocked with teensy tiny diapers, wipes, Desitin, A&D ointment, towels and baby blankets. Still milling about my mind are other things to do. Nothing critical, at this point. Just some sewing projects.
I’ve pre-registered with the hospital and with my insurance company, submitted my leave of absence paperwork and submitted my short term disability claim, coordinated my leave and return to work schedule with my boss and lead, registered for the use of the mother’s room at the office (which is nearly fully booked, but since I will have the luxury, thank the heavens above, of telecommuting most days for several months, I can take care of the lactation business in the comfort and privacy of my own home), and updated my on-line calendars with my leave and return schedules. As far as work goes, I’m good to go. Apart from actually wrapping up all the projects I’m working on, that is.
There are three people in my little corner of the world who do the particular line of work that we do, and both my lead (the Guru) and I (the Capable Sidekick) will be gone for a full week at the end of August, leaving Chicken Little alone with the sky falling. My lead said it will be good for him, which prompted me to ask how he (the Guru) remains so calm all the time, and he said, simply, will it matter in six months? If not, then it’s not worth getting all worked up over now. Genius! Why has it never occurred to me to apply such criteria? I could have skipped that whole Zoloft phase. In our work, we deal with multi-million-dollar products and the owners thereof, and it’s so easy to be whipped into a frenzy by their demands, so this golden nugget of learning how to put things in perspective and place a little distance between the stress and the bigger picture is just that. Golden. So. The work projects that I don’t finish? Will it matter in six months that I haven’t finished them? Probably not. If someone else doesn’t finish them (and they won’t –I generally work independently on these special projects), then I’ll just pick up where I left off when I return. No sweat. It’s so liberating!
Well, the daily brush fires will have to be dealt with, but my own projects will wait if need be. The Guru will, of course, be fine, and Chicken Little will have to find a way to cope. I will not worry. Nay, I will not even think of them! I’ll be swaddling, snuggling, caring for and reveling in my beautiful little boy.
I confirmed that my insurance covers 96 hours of hospital stay following the birth of the baby, during which time such special services as lactation specialists are covered, and after which they are not, therefore my plan is to demand that I stay in hospital until my milk comes in and I’m confident that my little guy is feeding well, assuming this takes place within 4 days. Surely my milk will come in by then. Our hospitals are notorious for moving mothers through as quickly as possible, so I’m planning to stand firm on this. I don’t want a repeat of the lactation nightmares endured with my first beautiful boy, and want to take full advantage of what the insurance plan will allow.
And my beautiful boy’s birth date has been changed to August 27th. I’ll have the amnio done on the morning of the 25th and find out by that afternoon whether his lungs are ready, and if so, it’s a go. If not, we wait until the next week. I’m fairly confident that he’ll be ready, but I have nothing at all to base that upon, other than I’ve been controlling the blood sugar fairly well, so his development shouldn’t be impaired by the diabetes. He might not even be a hulking Goliath after all. So far, he’s measuring a bit smaller than my first was at this stage, and he’s coming a full week earlier as well, which may translate to a pound or so. He sure seems bigger, though. I feel bigger, and I think I am bigger, even though I weigh less than I did last time. It’s a head scratcher. We shall see. He’ll show us.
Meanwhile…
…I’m getting so excited!
MsCellania Says: