How Can Someone This Round Be So Completely One-Dimensional?

By Megan

OHMYGRANNY people. Friday, the pregn-o-meter rolled over to 37 weeks, and I rolled over to not being able to roll over without the involvement of a crane, a couple shots of WD-40 and a 20-pack of ball bearings.

The Mama, she is chock full of baby and I mean that in every sense. So chock full in fact that certain parts of my anatomy previously happy to reside in their rightful and respective places on the inside of me have recently made for the nearest exits and taken up residence on the outside of me, where they seem as awkward and uncomfortable as Opie Cunningham at a Hell’s Angels rally.

(And I am not going into any further details about that here, but if you hang around after my formal comments, I’ll happily share them openly and colorfully over donuts and coffee.)

My mind is equally as chock full of thoughts of labor, birth and all things baby-related. When you add the anticipation and wonder over the whens and wherefores of all that’s on the near horizon to my considerable laundry list of gestationally-induced discomforts, what you’ve got is a woman who’s pretty much useless to those around her except as a very large and appropriately un-reactive doorstop.

I’m completely consumed, daydreaming of Peanut’s arrival and the joys of holding my tiny, sweet-smelling newborn in my arms while simultaneously redistributing all of my internal organs into the space he’s just evacuated with a hearty and heartfelt Aaaaaaaaah.

I was called upon to be social a couple of times this past week, as life around me just keeps keeping on even though I’ve been frantically poundin’ on the Pause button since about Week 34, and I went and filled a chair (to capacity, allow me to assure you) on each of those occasions, but had little to contribute beyond that, so preoccupied was I with all my heavy maternal waitin’ and wonderin’. Every conversation around me led me back to Peanut. Moms and dads comparing notes about their kids’ first days of city league football practice had me throwin’ two protective mother-paws over the belly and swearing in my head that as God is my witness, this little boy of mine will play tennis! Or ping pong! Or — CHESS!

Later, a quick glance down while listening to The Bunco Girls’ lighthearted banter about their pretty, brightly-colored, flower-bedecked toes courtesy of the local Nail Spa sent me off into sudden panic thinking ACK! I cannot put my feet up in stirrups lookin’ like THIS! I wonder if I’ll have time to get somethin’ done about ’em before I go into labor?! Or should I wait another week? And what about my hair? After the baby comes, it’ll be months before I can unlatch myself from him long enough for a trip to the salon. Mebbe I should make an appointment right away?

At home, I’m sadly not much better. Bean and I spend our days in this weird suspended state of inactivity, her three-year-old mind struggling to figure out why Mama’s been staring blankly out the wndow for the past 20 minutes not sayin’ a word. And I know she’s scratching her little curly head wondering how the same television that three weeks ago was the absolute Scourge of Humanity suddenly became as beloved and welcome a Nanny around here as Mary Poppins herself would be.

(Hurry, Nanny! Many thanks, Megan and Her Angst.)

My husband, the best pep-talker I’ve ever known, delivered another one of his doozies to me last night as I waffled on damply and pathetically about what a lousy mother, wife, and friend I’ve been lately, in my hazy, distracted, not-quite-all-here state. The message in this one wasn’t quite what I’m used to hearing from him, but darn it if it wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.

Honey, he said, You’re a GREAT wife and mother. But champions win GAMES, not necessarily every play. You’re the kind of person who always wants to go for it on 4th and 1. Heck, you consistently go for it on 4th and 20. But sometimes, you just. gotta. punt. You’re 40 years old and 37 weeks pregnant. Punt, already!


Okay. I’ll punt.

Only… Aw, geez.

Would somebody please tie my cleats for me?

Megan is the owner and author of FriedOkra, a blog about parenting, the South, comfort food and many other good things in life.

19 Responses to How Can Someone This Round Be So Completely One-Dimensional?
  1. Kellyn
    July 21, 2008 | 8:20 am

    It has come so fast! It doesn’t even seem like that long ago you were annoucing Peanut.

    The last few weeks of pregnancy were the worst for me. We had Hunter, and at 4 he was not a fan of not doing anything. He would get me moving like no one else could. Did I ever mention that two days after Boo was born we held Hunter’s 5th b-day party…they are two days apart. I was more tired then than before Boo came (obviously).

  2. Laura
    July 21, 2008 | 10:36 am

    Oh, bless your heart! (If your heart is still accessible amid all of the organ relocation and such…) I’m all too familiar with the “punt”-ing, and the use of the television in those situations. Only, I was 28 years old, and I’m pretty sure I started the “Hey, do you want to watch Dragon Tales next?” long before 37 weeks, I’m afraid. *sigh*

  3. Beck
    July 21, 2008 | 10:45 am

    These last weeks of pregnancy just really, really suck. Of course, The Baby decided to come really abruptly at 37 weeks, which was sort of startling. Just hang in there!

  4. Kelly
    July 21, 2008 | 12:59 pm

    Ummm, did Peanut not get the eviction notice?

    Hang in there. At least you have AC, right?

  5. T with Honey
    July 21, 2008 | 1:52 pm

    I wish I could relate. Really. Hearing about women feeling huge and tired during the last few weeks makes me squirm in my seat because that just didn’t happen for me with Princess.

    I LOVED being pregnant once I got past the 1st trimester. Plus I never got huge. All that abdominal surgery after a car accident and organ removal must have left me with extra space for baby. At 38 weeks a new nurse at my OB/GYN’s office mistook me for someone only in her 6th month.

    Being pregnant with Princess was so easy that I’m sure I’ll get my butt served to me on a platter if I ever get pregnant again.

  6. Summer
    July 21, 2008 | 2:34 pm

    OH I completely understand — I was getting my eyebrows waxed the day before I went into labor. I remember insisting to Hubby that I.MUST.DO.IT.NOW! He was smart and didn’t argue. But my stylist — well, she tells my story to everyone.

  7. Elaine
    July 21, 2008 | 3:21 pm

    Yea!!!!! Woooooooo! ANOTHER a great post. That is one wise husband of yours. He’s a keeper. Here, let me tie your cleats for you.

  8. Karen {simply a musing blog}
    July 21, 2008 | 3:22 pm

    Heck, I’m not even pregnant and I can totally relate to this! What does that say about me?

    Hang in there a little bit longer – the last three weeks seem to drag by, but honestly. Your day is coming and before you know it, you’ll be in the labor and delivery asking yourself, “What in the H-E-double-hockeysticks was I thinking having another baby!?” Only until you get your epidural, of course and then the world will seem right again. 🙂

    Because Bean will be here in his full 8 pound, small-headed glory!

  9. Steph
    July 21, 2008 | 3:34 pm

    You are too funny! I am amazed at all you continue to do, and I feel for you being 37 weeks in this ridiculous heat. I remember “baby brain” when I was ready to pop and everything lead me back to a daydream about Sweetpea. Not only will I tie your cleats, I’ll be your cheerleader!! You deserve a break and a little rest for when Peanut is calling for food every few hours.

    Take care,

  10. Lizz
    July 21, 2008 | 5:07 pm

    If that doesn’t sum up those last few weeks of pregnancy, I don’t know what does. There is something about 34 weeks. You can kind of cruise along until then. But at around that time you kind of wake up and go, “Whoa, this is really gonna happen.” And for the next six weeks or so, that is pretty much all you can think about. At least that is how it goes for me. Hang in there.

  11. jackie
    July 21, 2008 | 6:33 pm

    Don’t ya just love the fact that guys can work a sports analogy into every situation – even pregnancy!

    Hang in there, and maybe we can find some slip-on cleats for you.

  12. Amy
    July 21, 2008 | 6:50 pm

    I love bunco, too. Check out my website devoted to bunco. It has lots of free stuff and party ideas. Thanks!

  13. Sincerely Anna
    July 21, 2008 | 8:11 pm

    Oh man, you have me laughing here. I’m learning so much about pregnancy that I didn’t know before!

  14. Veronica
    July 21, 2008 | 9:15 pm

    I was thinking today that my children have only known me as the tired mama who is either pregnant or has a small baby. We are planning on this being our last baby, so in another year, they may get a rude shock when mama finally has real energy again.

    Last few weeks of pregnancy are awful. I usually feel positively abandoned by God and the universe.

  15. Susan (5 Minutes for Mom)
    July 23, 2008 | 11:05 am

    What a brilliant description of life at 37 weeks pregnant.

    I remember being so uncomfortable in those last few weeks. It was especially frustrating when Janice had her baby 2 weeks early (we were due 4 days apart) and I had to hold on until my due date.

  16. crookedeyebrow
    July 23, 2008 | 1:59 pm

    O heck hun, I’d tie your cleats because you simply amaze me.

    But what’s a 4 & 20?


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