If you told me nine months ago that eventually I’d be here, a few days from my due date, relatively calm and ready to welcome Jess Jr. into the world … well, I’d believe you. That’s how time works. Except for a few times during Hellmester, I didn’t actually believe this baby would kill me. Still, I’m proud of how far we’ve come. I’ve been pregnant for more than 270 days, which is really too long to do any physical activity continually. Besides breathing. Definitely keep that up.

Sadly, there are no pregnancy rest days, cheat days, or spring breaks. I mean, can you imagine how INSANE expectant moms would get if pregnancy spring break were a thing? A week off, no consequences to you or baby, to do whatever you want? It’d be like a Rumspringa featuring someone who never once had the moral compass or decorum of an Amish youth. It’d be so messy that E! has already bought the rights.

In short, this has been a long-ass journey with no discernible breaks. It didn’t fly by. It has lasted as long as it takes to build a sentient life form who could one day make major advances in quantum computing, or gargle Miller High Life to the tune of God Bless America, depending on how their whole genetic situation shakes out. For reference, it takes a cat about 60 days to gestate a whole litter of kittens. Is the extra time worth it? I’d say the jury’s still out.

The Bestmester

If you read my Hellmester (first trimester) and Hypemester (second trimester) posts, you know there’s little I enjoyed about being pregnant, besides the fact that I was able to be pregnant. It’s a total gift (because I WANTED this, people; stay out of my uterus otherwise.) But this gift is a mess. Baby kicks are cute. Baby hiccups, or kicks to the RIBS, are NOT. Baby bumps are cute. Needing a NASCAR pit crew to flip you over from one side to the other at night is NOT. Unless “pregnancy glow” is another name for “teen acne,” I didn’t have that. (But thank you for telling me I did. That was obviously just makeup and an Instagram filter, but you are very kind.) Is my hair fuller during pregnancy? Are my finger nails stronger? I don’t know; I’ve never cared about anything less in my whole life because I’ve been severely to mildly nauseated since Oct. 5, 2018. If I ever hear anyone say that push presents are “overkill” or “greedy” or “the baby is your present,” I’m hiring a freelance witch to curse that person with several months of morning sickness.

But for all the joy this process has not brought me, I am floored by it, and it’s been an honor. For me, this trimester is the BESTMESTER because:

1. It’s almost over!
2. I’ve been overwhelmed by the love and friendship shown to me through this whole process. Texts with pregnant friends, friends with kids, and friends who are not that into kids but are still into me got me THRU.
3. This is by far the least sick I’ve felt, and I was able to ween myself down to half a unisom a night (and not a milligram less).
4. It’s almost over!!
5. I had THE BEST baby shower, thrown by my best ladies.
6. The steady mail train of baby shower gifts was like weekly Christmas, both for my husband and I, and the cats.
7. It’s almost over!!!
8. Exercising felt great up through about 37.5 weeks pregnant, when I got plantar fasciitis in one foot and my hip joints went full-Gumby, which forced me to switch to a lighter workout regimen of “sitting on an exercise ball,” “struggling to put on leggings,” and “walking over there sometimes.”
9. Nesting finally happened! The baby doesn’t get a nursery per se, but making room for all his crap forced us to do a bunch of things we’d been putting off: hanging art, organizing the spare closet, and solving the mystery of what is inside those boxes that my husband hasn’t unpacked since we moved in.
10. Did I mention it’s almost over??!?!

Preparing For B Day

My parents got here a little over a week ago for Baby Watch and to help us prepare, because they’re also the best (and wouldn’t take no for an answer). And as B Day gets closer and closer, I can’t help but notice that preparing for a baby is not entirely unlike preparing for the apocalypse:

Step 1: Stock your fridge and pantry with non-perishable necessities, and prepare some easy meals you can eat on the go while running from a giant meteor or your crazy baby.

Step 2: Say your goodbyes to your friends and promise them you’ll find them again – via smoke signal, carrier pigeon, or a bitmoji of yourself as a zombie – if you make it to the other side.

Step 3: Give away personal belongings that will no longer serve you, like high heels, crop tops, luggage sets, your passport, and clothes that aren’t at least 90% spandex.

Step 4: Visit your favorite haunts while you still can. Sure, they might still be there when you emerge, blinking, into the light of a new dawn. But they might not.

Step 5: Pack tactical bags full of the equipment you’ll need to survive in the open – water, snacks, a knife, extra onesies, pacifiers – and never leave your shelter without them.

Step 6: Make arrangements to rarely leave your shelter.  

The Final Countdown

I’m an emotional lady. I’m not sure I felt more emotional during pregnancy because I’m just very emotional, all the time. It doesn’t take much to fill me with extreme joy or immense sadness – usually any commercial involving a homecoming or dog will do. For the past 9 months, I’ve run the emo gamut from elation to low-grade depression – with some anxiety, anger, and defensiveness in between. Now, aside from feeling a bit frantic about finishing up work projects, my main emotional state is “on the verge of tears anticipating the moment this baby rips out my heart and holds it in his sweaty hands for the rest of my life.” It’s scary. And cool. Do I know how to raise a baby, a son, an upstanding gentleman? Not really. I’m sure there are a few YouTube videos for that? But I know how to love wildly and without coming up for air, and I think that’s a start.