"If it starts, we won't stop it"

That is what they told me last week since I've made it past the 34 week mark. Makes it all a little more real and not so far away anymore. I am feeling a little unprepared. I need to kick it into gear. I need to go shopping! God, I wish we had a Target.

Believe me, I already have plenty of baby crap. With pregnancy comes a whole world of products aimed specifically at you and your growing belly. But the most common in my home are the books, not exactly helpful in the day to day poop and pee fest of infants. Though they do help determine what is needed. Oh, don't get me wrong, I haven't read them. Or at least not all the way through. I can't seem to walk into Borders without feeling obligated to expand my pregnancy knowledge with the purchase of some sort of literature. But of course, since I don't actually read them, it doesn't expand much...perhaps shrink my wallet is a more accurate description.

Nevertheless, these books do get browsed. Usually this is for one of two reasons:

Something weird is going on. Either I feel funny, look funny or I don't feel or look funny enough. That's when these books get scooped up and I pour over the index looking for things like "shooting leg pain" (thank you baby, for putting your head on my sciatic nerve) and of course, "shingles."

Bathroom. Which as a pregnant woman you are in quite a bit.

Now all these books, as well as TV, other women, and even the doctors speak of the magical 2nd trimester period when you glow and feel wonderful. I admit I long for the previous lightness, dexterity and good humor I experienced in my second trimester. However, I don't think there was anything fabulously different or particularly noteworthy about it. I think it's just the last time you remember feeling normal and able-bodied. Therefore, you develop a sentimental and nostalgic attachment to it. I know I have. Sometime within the last few weeks, my body turned from a round-but-cute tub of baby, into a large, protruding incubator that I can't manuever out of a car without a groan, and can't make comfortable to sleep without a "nest."

The sleep issue has been mitigated by the introduction of the Snoogle! I love my Snoogle. My little nest would not work with out it. 5 pillows and 1 snoogle make an almost comfortable nights sleep.

I have been reassured that this is all for a good reason. The discomfort makes you more appreciative of labor and the end of pregnancy. Perhaps this is all a blessing since last week was "movie night" at birthing class, which didn't exactly make me excited about what is to come. I can't wait to meet the little man, but after the film it seemed a little more intimidating to say the least. Once they turned the lights back on, J turned to me and said "How ya feeling?" with a note of concern. He then added "Boy, I'm glad I don't have to do that." I smiled. Yeah, I kinda wish I didn't have to do that either.

But then I think about all I get that he misses out on. At night (when I'm not sleeping) I lie with hand on my belly and the little guy squirms and pushes up on on me. Part of me wants to nudge J, wake him up, so he can feel it too. I suppose I feel slightly guilty that only I get these constant reminders that he's there throughout the day...little hellos. I've known our son for months now, J has known a belly that gives an occasional jump and start. I am the one that is providing nutrients and life to the little one inside me, and will continue to provide all he needs once he joins us. I am amazed at what my body does, just as a matter of what it is and how it's set up. I don't have to make it do anything, it just knows. It's really mind blowing.

Tonight we have our birth class again. It's the night we visit the hospital. They're going to show us where to check in and give a little tour. I'm excited to see the new birthing wing. Apparently it's really beautiful, with lake views and tubs in every room. It should be funny to see 8 women who are all around 7 months pregnant being paraded around the hospital. I hope they have convienently appointed bathrooms.