Getting close.

Here I am, 34 weeks in, and despite all my superstitious feelings I can't help but nest. It's biological! I am possessed -- some ancient lizard brain switch flipped, and now all I can see are the little things around the house that need to be addressed. Not even all baby-related things, either. Burnt-out lightbulbs. A wobbly chair. Inefficient use of storage space. On my way to do one task, I'll get distracted by another, and an hour later the closet is super-clean and I've forgotten what my original task was.

We're now probably three or four weeks away from an induction date. I'm hopeful but I still don't totally believe. I've allowed myself to buy some things for the Nut and my post-partum self, telling myself that regardless of what happens, my body's going to have to go through the process of recovering after delivering a baby, and what's a few more unused onesies in a drawer already full of them for the last almost two years? What a morbid defense mechanism; I wish I could enjoy this more.

The Nut is doing well so far. I can feel a butt, spine, arms and legs, hands and feet stretching out in there. She is putting on fat quickly and weighs, I believe, about five pounds at this point. I feel much more pregnant than I did even five weeks ago -- t-shirts don't fit quite as well as they used to, my joints don't feel totally stable, and things ache in weird ways. My body doesn't feel like my own, and it's hard for me to discern its limits. D and I are ready for this part to be finished. We'd like to welcome her home and get on with our lives as a threesome, plus dog.