36 weeks

I am 36 weeks today.  It seems like I should be nearing the end, but I guess in principle I still have a month to go.  I don’t think it will be that long.  I am glad I’ve made it this far.  Last night I thought I might be in labor, but it seems I just have a really bad reaction to eating too much broccoli.  I have read online that gestational diabetes gets easier to control after 36 weeks and also that it gets harder.  I am not sure which it will be for me.  I have an MFM appointment tomorrow for my first biophysical profile, and then Friday will be the regular OB for GBS and a cervical check.

We have been cleaning the house a bit.  There is a lot of junk and detritus left over from the first few weeks postpartum of my last baby.  Cleaning it up brought back a lot of sad memories of my father suddenly, since those were the last few weeks before his symptoms began.  I put away my ironing board and remembered how he had always ironed all of our clothes, and I remembered the night before his funeral ironing my own, and how horrible and surreal it all was.   Going to the hospital too I will notice the big hole as he was with us last time…it was mom, dad, and my husband.  This time it will be just mom and husband (and a doula).

I worry about my mom too.  I wish she were a little less stubborn–but you can’t change people, and I am stretched thin.

My husband is a PGY-2 now (second year of residency).  I thought his becoming more senior meant life would become easier, but instead he tells me no–it’s just more responsibility.  This is frustrating.  You think there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but then there isn’t.  Or maybe it’s a train!  People say life will be easier in a few years when our kids are school-aged, when DH has a real job.  But we’ll be 40 then.  I am already starting to have health problems.  For the last couple of years all I’ve seen around me is illness and death and begun to experience it myself.

We picked a baby name, but everyone in the family hates it as it is “too common.”  I don’t care.  It’s me carrying the baby around and me who pricks my finger 4x a day, and I don’t really want anyone else’s input.

My brother-in-law’s dad died.  I was the first in my husband’s extended family to lose a parent.  He is the second.  Of course, BIL is way older than me and has three siblings.  So I still just got really unlucky.

I am increasingly immobile and feeling tired.


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