39 Days

Last night my knees exploded. Not actually, but they certainly looked and felt like they were going to. Apparently I ate too much sodium at dinner or was too sedentary in the evening because by the time I went upstairs to bed my knees were miserable. Climbing the stairs alone was painful and slightly taxing, and I had to enlist my husband to help get my knee-high, open-toe (uber-attractive) compression socks off. Ugh, it was a dismal sight ... shades of what happened when I was pregnant with Baylor appeared before my eyes.

And then my husband said, after some calculation,

"Only 39 days to go!"

He smiled at me, hopeful he'd helped, then asked after seeing my dazed reaction, "Is that good or bad?"

Well, that all depends on how you look at it.

In 39 short days I get to meet my son or daughter. That part is wonderful, exciting, and awesome.

Then there's the rest of it. I'll try to pick this apart as best I can, but I already cried once this morning just thinking about all this so bear with me.

First off, there is the physical aspect of it. Yes, in 39 days I won't have to sleep all night on my left side, my leg swelling will go down, I won't have all this extra weight on me (though I'll still have some), and so on and so forth. Until then, however, I have 39 days to fight water weight gain, my dreaded pregnancy nemesis. Not only does the water weight I tend to gain rob me of normal-looking knees, but it makes my joints feel arthritic. If it spreads to my hands, it will bring on pregnancy-induced, water weight gain carpel tunnel syndrome, making it so I can't feel anything my fingers touch. Not cool, and not a whole lot of fun when you're trying to diaper a wiggle worm. So I have a battle ahead of me to keep the water from settling under my skin and, at the same time, not deprive myself so much that I binge on salt and ruin the whole thing.

After those 39 days, I will trade the uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms to feeling like I have been sawed in half from hip bone to hip bone. Laughing, crying, walking, sneezing, coughing, climbing, sitting, standing, and every other little movement we take for granted throughout the day will suddenly hurt and I am not looking forward to it. That said, I know I have to do it, so I'm just trying to reconcile the notion in my head.

Secondly, I have 39 days to finish everything on my Tick Tock list, and more. I have done a crappy job of getting things done, but I've been trying to not let the house go to pot and I've been tired. Sue me. The list is looming large over my head and I need to start ticking things off it before I lose my mind. So there's that.

Then there's all the emotional stuff that goes along with bringing another person into our family. I'm bracing myself for post-partum depression (and will be getting advanced help from my OB and therapist), so that part is as under control as I can get it right now. But then there's Baylor.

Deep breath, Nicole.

I know, without a doubt, that the people who will be helping me after the baby is born love and care for Baylor more than words can say. I know he won't be short on attention or love. It's the selfish part of me that is so very sad that I won't get to scoop him up and hug him or carry him around like he's used to. We won't have our laundry time for a long while. All those things we do together throughout the day will change, and I have 39 days to both soak up all the goodness and prepare Baylor and myself for this new world we're going to enter into.

I worry I will have to divide my love like I'm going to have to divide my time, something I'm not good at anyhow. I'm worried things will fall through the cracks and all this mommy confidence I've gained in the past 17 months will disappear. I have 39 whole days to worry. And yet I have only 39 days to worry.

So 39 days are ahead of us to try to get ready for a new life. Just when I got used to our rhythm it's going to change, and I'm kinda sad about it. (Paco, if you ever read this and are a stay-at-home mom or dad, you'll understand. I hope you'll forgive me for feeling this way.)

I know we'll eventually get into a rhythm again; I'll just have two kids instead of one. We'll find our new normal together, and everything will be happy and good.

It's just the getting there that has me worried.