I've sewn 4 diapers this week. Doesn't sound like much, but they are pretty neat diapers, with a waterproof liner (they still need official "stuffers" so that I'm not wedging a ginormous prefold in there).
I am sewing a diaper bag. Oh, it's going to be pretty, but I hate cutting out fabric and I am currently taking a break in the middle of THAT miserable process.
I am researching donation of cord blood. It's a bitch to donate it to the public banks, whereas it is really easy to bank it privately. Let me give you some links in case you want to replicate my research -- which you will have to if you want to donate, because the public banks are on a by-case basis: www.marrow.org or www.parentsguidecordblood.org have lists of public banks in case your hospital, like mine and the vast majority, are not collection spots. If your donation can be accepted, they will send a collection kit for you to the hospital. (My doctor strongly approves, so I suspect that IF I am accepted, he'll make it easy.)
Tonight is my first childbirth preparedness class. I need to bring two pillows and a snack and something to drink and notebooks and pens. Squeee!!!
Tomorrow is one of my every-two-week checkups with my obstetrician. I'll get the results of that ridiculous 24-hour urine test. I am actually starting to worry about pre-eclampsia, despite having zero symptoms.
Next Tuesday, I get to see the baby -- we have an ultrasound scheduled. I don't think we are apt to pay for a 3D/4D ultrasound, because we both agree they don't look like much even though they kinda do, and we are so close to seeing him in person.
TOMORROW IS WEEK 30 AND I HAVE ONLY 10 MORE WEEKS TO GO (or however long the baby feels like being there). OhmyGod.
Night before last, we SAW the baby kick. I had been sitting back in my chair because I noticed I could feel separate little limbs (feet!) with my hand, pressed against my tummy up above my belly button (which is a freaky place for the uterus to be). Pat had felt it too and was looking moist around the eyes. My hand was still caressing little feet, when it got KICKED off my belly, and when I looked in astonishment, I could see those kicks making my whole abdomen jump. It's the only time so far,* but Pat and I were shocked and delighted.
He's been dancing around me any time I'm in range, like I'm some kind of fertility tiki, running his hands along my pregnant belly and breasts and grinning and giggling like a shaman (or a fool). I am not only not ashamed to resemble the Venus of Willendorf, but feel privileged to resemble her -- I feel huge and sexy and vital and potent and magical! (And resemble her I do... except I have features instead of hair or a mask, and I am pleased to announce that I still have hands and feet.) No jiggle or sag offends my critical eye now; I praise them all for doing their jobs.
My best friend, who will be my doula, has intimated that she is going to knit me a soaker. This is a mission of mercy; I am sick to death of knitting them even though I enjoy knitting. They are too easy, and easy is boring. (I know very well that all of this will change.)
Even my 6-year-old friend has baby fever: all of her dolls and paper dolls have had babies now. It's official... being pregnant is the coolest with kids. She delights in asking, "how many people are in this room" and being scrupulously sure to count the baby. And she is excited to know that he's a little boy; she says, when he's as big as she is now, or maybe 4, she will teach him how to play games... but she soberly informs me that she'll be older then.
*ETA: baby decided to make a liar of me by doing it again as soon as I posted this. Yay baby! Okay, back to cutting out fabric and hoping he can't learn cuss words in utero. :)