It was around 4:30 this morning when I finally moved from our bed to the couch. “Just a change of scenery will help,” my sleepy brain whispered to my sleepier body. And that actually made sense to me in the wee hours of the morning.
“Har, you stay up here with Chris,” I said as I tried my best to hurl myself out of bed as I do now.
“Got it,” Harlow responded as he immediately got up too and followed me downstairs, anxious to see what we were doing.
I opened the back door so he could go outside (yards are amazing, how did we go so long without this luxury?) I thought about getting a glass of water, but knew it would mean I’d have to go to the bathroom in ten minutes (rather than 30) and decided against it. And then I let Har back in, laid down on the couch, and begged for sleep.
And Har begged to sleep curled right next to me, as he always does, which may or may not have something to do with the pickle I was currently in. The not-able-to-sleep-pickle… The 37 week pregnant belly is the main reason obviously, but the 75 pound dog who needs to lay near/on me doesn’t help the situation.
I know what you’re thinking, kick the dog out of the bed. I could do that, if Harlow were a dog. But he’s not. He’s a Harlow. And it’s weighing heavier and heavier on me (there’s a pun there, right?) about how much his life is about to be disrupted and he’s slept next to me every single night since we first brought him home as a pup and it just feels so unfair to him.
So yes, I fully accept that it’s my fault I was on the couch at 5 a.m. rather than our comfy bed, because I refuse to put Harlow out.. And unless you’re new around here this shouldn’t surprise anyone, either. Because I also happen to know that Har will get up with me for every single middle of the night feeding, changing, and whatever else I’ll soon have to do with baby, because that’s just what Har does. He’s always by my side.
So this is 37 weeks. The hospital bag is packed (almost) and so is Harlow’s bag. While we’re away for a few nights, he’ll be staying with a nice family who has two Vizslas that look and act just like him, with just a little less white in the face. We got this all set up last week and it makes me feel so much better knowing he’ll be in good hands, especially as we’re getting closer and closer.
As I’ve watched my friends and sister have babies over the years; once, twice, some even three times now I always wondered what it was like toward the end.
“Aren’t you so nervous to give birth?” I’d ask. “Do you wake up with anxiety attacks every night?” Because just the thought of what they were about to go through made me anxious as hell.
But now I think I get it. First of all, in order to “wake up” they have to fall asleep first… (ha ha.) But most of all, at least for me, you get to a point where giving birth starts to sound like a relief. After weeks of being sore and swollen and poked and jabbed, the last step of it all isn’t nearly as scary to me as it once was. Will I change my mind when it’s actually about to happen? Sure, sure, sure. But for now… for now I’m actually feeling excited and ready. Ready to meet the baby girl who’s been kicking me for months now. And ready for Chris to finally meet her too, I feel like I’ve gotten a bit of a jump start on getting to know her and now it’s his turn to feel her little movements and quirks.
Just a few more weeks… or could it be days? Or weeks? The unknowing of it all is a little unnerving, but also part of the “fun,” right?
Now if you’ll excuse me I have some baby onesies to wash. I could write an entire post romanticizing that first load of baby laundry with the baby soap scent that is so new to Chris and I, but I’ll spare you that one. 😉 I have a feeling the joys of baby laundry may be something that wears off rather quick, so let me enjoy it while I can.