the (not quite) end

This is the Saturday before finals week of my Junior year...and I should be writing. I should be writing my idiolect autobiography. I should be writing for my creative fiction portfolio. I should be responding to my peers' Middle School Philosophy projects or writing my analytical essays for novels.

Instead, I think I'll write in my blog.

I've been a decent student, and stuck my butt in the library the last two nights. I will allow myself a night off, even with all the work I still have to do. I'll admit: I'm getting antsy. Everyone has been commenting on how fast the semester flew by since Easter break, and I suppose that they have a point, in a way, but time still isn't moving fast enough for me. I still have so much to do before my semester is over. Though everything will happen in a short span of time, that giant pile of projects, papers, and tests can get a bit overwhelming.
I'm really not complaining, though. I do find a sense of accomplishment when I can finish up a project to my own satisfaction, then cross it off of my to-do list. Plus, I'm in college, and I knew when I made the decision to get my undergrad that it would be more than sunshine and butterflies. In two years, when everyone else goes back to school and I don't get to, I will miss it. I know I will.

As of Monday, I will be thirty-five weeks pregnant. I'm going to go ahead and assume that this is the biggest reason why I'm anxious for things to get moving along. I've been showing and not-so-glowing since about twenty-eight weeks, but Trumpet Baby has really been taking over my entire body for the past few weeks. Doctor says my body is measuring small, and I have stayed consistently at 115 lbs for the past three doctor visits, but babe is apparently smack-dab in the middle of "average" size for her age. I'm blaming my lack of body weight gain on my horrible heartburn/reflux (now on my fourth value-sized ultra-strength bottle of Tums!) I prefer ice cubes to food most of the time.

I call her Trumpet Baby in my head when I'm not calling her by her real name (which Alex and I aren't sharing until it's on her birth certificate - she does have one!) Since Alex and I met on the brassline my freshman year, it seemed only fitting...plus she seems to enjoy trumpets already, because my usually acrobatic fun-sized mini human will calm way down and sit perfectly still whenever I play, or I'm around someone who is playing.

I mean, little did I know that when I decided to march The Pride, I'd end up with a daughter.
I don't think I would change my mind if I knew. :)




Time has just been crawling since I hit thirty weeks. I was thinking I was having some pre-labor signs yesterday and the day before, but that may have been (and probably was) wishful thinking, especially since I'm still three weeks from "term." Ma had me at thirty-four weeks, and Ethan at thirty-six, but she was also sick with Chron's Disease, and I spent time in the NICU. Baby has passed my birth age, at least. I'm just starting to get those "pregnancy blahs," not to mention I am starting to get incredibly excited to meet our little Trumpet Baby. The process of coming to terms with the idea of becoming a mother took a very long time for me (as I'm sure it does for a lot of new moms,) but now I'm definitely just anxious to actually see and hold her.





During the past two days of my deluding myself into believing I would have a baby to hold within the week, Alex and I ran to Walmart to get some simple hospital stuff for her. I keep playing with a pair of the teeny little socks...wanting her little toes to be in those socks...and not between my ribs!

Let's hope I can keep her socks matched better than I do my own.

A lot of people have mentioned the baby, lately, probably because my bump can no longer be contained in ANYTHING I wear. Usually, I just make some kind of remark like "I can't wait to be done!" or something along the lines of how sick I am of pregnancy.
I guess the issue here is not that I'm not excited to have my baby, it's just that I don't want to be one of those obnoxious moms that acts as if there was and is no life before baby. I've always wanted to be a mom, and even though Trumpet Baby is a little bit early, I am still incredibly attached to her already. I just don't want to be defined just as the "girl who got pregnant in college." I want to show her off, but I don't want to shove her existence into everyone's' faces. I hid my bump for as long as I could, not because my pregnancy was a big secret, or that I was ashamed of her, but just because life is easier when I'm still a normal face-in-the-crowd.

I suppose I just don't feel that I have to prove to anyone else that I love my baby. I know that I do, and she will (and maybe already does) know that, too. She will be a lot easier to show off once she makes her appearance, too. :) In my opinion, a cute little girl will be a lot more fun to look at than a lumpy Sam.