99 Days

*P-word talk and baby prep below*

We're into double digits. My ticker just hit 99 days to go. Awe-inspiring. I remember when it said I had about 250 days to go and it seemed like a lifetime. Now I find myself wondering where all the time went.

Just about one more week until the final trimester. Father Time seems to be flying on his magic carpet, which is welcoming after a first trimester that just dragged on and on. I am now feeling "under the gun", as I realize I have approximately 3 months left until my due date. And that just isn't. enough. time. Then again, is there ever? It always seems to sneak up on you - even if you are the most prepared person on the planet. With all of my anxiety, I just procrastinated and now it is catching up with me. It is still hard to imagine bringing a real live baby home. But I need to err on the side of caution and get my behind in gear just in case this isn't just a fantasy. I certainly don't want to actually get to the point of delivering a healthy baby and then having no place for him to sleep or nothing for him to poop and pee into simply because I was scared to believe. He deserves much better than that. So I need to step it up.

I think I've begun the infamous "nesting" phase. I can't stand to look at the clutter in my apartment. This past weekend, we disassembled some furniture that we are donating to the Salvation Army to make room for Sunshine and unpacked some boxes that needed to be moved to our den/office. There are still several small boxes for us to go through but it is probably just junk that can be tossed (it's amazing what you hang onto with every thread of your being and all of a sudden, you have a reason to let it go without a second thought). Then, we can start on the nursery. Painting the whole room is a big no-no according to our lease, which sucks ass. However, we may rebel a little and paint a border or something. We haven't fully decided yet. I'm more inclined just to leave the cream-colored walls and use nautical wall decor to dress it up, while DH insists on having a painting project. So, stay tuned to see who comes out on top with that one.

Next project is to clean up our bedroom - since he will be sleeping in his Pack 'N Play in our room for the first few months - and go through clothes or other items that can be given to charity or packed away. That means pretty much all of my pre-pregnancy clothes can be organized and stored since I have no idea when I'll fit in those again. I've even grown out of one of my under-the-belly maternity slacks. You know it's bad when you have to wear a Bella Band with pants that are made specifically to accomodate a belly.

I declare the scale as my enemy. I shall not, from this day forward, step into his personal space and he shall not taunt me with his ever-amusing addition. At 26 weeks, I'm up 28 lbs. A little more than I would like to be but it is hard to maintain your weight when you feel like you are starving every 2 hours. I've replaced ice cream with fro-yo and I've replaced many of my enriched flour products with wheat or whole grains. I've even been working in an exercise program - walking for about an hour on the local trail as weather permits. But quantity seems to be overriding quality at this point. As healthy as I try to be, it doesn't matter. The weight is going nowhere but up. And by avoiding the scale, I can feel good about what I'm eating and what I'm doing, instead of feeling like an incompetent failure.

In other news, Sunshine seems to have taken a liking to my right ribcage. He always seems to kick me on that side or bunch himself into a little nook or cranny up there. Not so comfortable for mama but whatever makes him happy makes me happy. Pain really is pleasure in this instance. It is quite hard to distinguish some of his more violent movements from Braxton Hicks. How do I know which is which? For as much as I've read, you'd think I'd be an expert. But instead I feel utterly clueless.