Baby Shower + 36 weeks, 3 days Checkup

"Your cervix is softening nicely!"

Oh god. Oh god Dr. G - it's 8:45 in the morning and you're, (forgive the expression), up to your elbow in my girly bits. Could we please refrain from saying things like that to one another right now? Because to be honest, I'm very busy staring at the ceiling tiles and pretending to be on a beach in Biarritz and it is hard to imagine a beach boy saying something like that while handing me a drink with an umbrella in it. (Incidentally, saying, "you're going to feel a little bit of pressure" is totally pointless at this stage of our relationship. This is like, the third pelvic exam I've had in as many weeks, and I KNOW what it's going to feel like. No offense. Also, "pressure" doesn't really cover it. I realize that as you are a man, there's no way for you to know that, but trust me. Pressure does not cover it.)

Had my 36 week check up this morning. As we were driving to the appointment, I said to Sandy - "I really, really hope that things have, you know, progressed a little bit since last week."

He said, "why? We've got another three weeks to go you know..."

After glaring at him for reminding me, I replied, "oh it has nothing to do with me hoping for an early delivery," (although that would be awesome God, if Rhys is ready, so am I...), "it's just - I've had like an entire week of sudden stabbing needle-like death pains in my vagina, and I want to know that they are for a purpose. Because if they haven't been doing anything to further things along, I'm going to be pretty pissed off that I've had to deal with them."

Sandy rolled his eyes at me. This is because last week I suggested to him on the exact same car ride that maybe it would be healthier for me, mentally, if I told Dr. G not to tell me about any cervical changes that were taking place, because I might be prone to over-thinking it and fretting if things stalled, etc.

Indecision, thy name is Me.

At this visit Dr. G eyeballed Rhys on the ultrasound,* commented on the nice cushion of amniotic fluid I'm providing him with by drinking my weight in water every day, said my placenta looks nice and healthy,** (which was good because I found out about aging placentas the other day thanks to freaking Baby Center*** and that's just way too gross,) and commented on the fact that Rhys is still being a very helpful young man by remaining in the LOA position - head down and prepared to launch. He's been hanging out in that position for yonks. And he will stay in that position if he knows what's good for him. (And for me.)

In other good news, I'm Strep B negative, and HIV negative. Hurrah for living a largely blameless life!

At the end of the ultrasound and then the pelvic exam, Dr. G said, "well things are moving along - you're about a 1/2 cm." I said, confused, "wait, what does that mean?" because I was thinking he was talking about my cervical effacement...but then I realized he was saying I was dilated! Hurrah! I've started dilating! Stabbing vaginal pains totally good for something! Yay! "Oh!" I said, happily, "I'm dilating!"

"Yes, about a 1/2 cm to 1 cm, I'd say," he continued, "and about 80% effaced. You're still at around a -2 to a -1 station...but we're getting there. I'd say you're exactly on track for where you're supposed to be." I stared at him. Doom. He was saying he thinks Rhys will go the distance - 40 weeks. I said, "So you think 40 weeks?" He said, "well you never really know but the way things are progressing, yes."

"Dammit," I said. "I've got a friend who just went at 38. I had my fingers crossed and everything. Three more weeks. Urg."

Dr. G smiled encouragingly. "Still, only three more weeks!"

I wanted to say: "Dr. G. I am being stabbed in the vagina several times daily, I spend more time on my toilet than on any other seat in my house, (and am becoming disturbingly comfortable there - hopefully I won't be one of those women who refuses to be parted from her toilet during labor), thanks to Rhys' growing presence in my pelvis I now lurch around in public like Quasimodo with his hump on the wrong way, I can't eat anything tasty because my tongue has betrayed me and everything still tastes like doom and poison, my idea of a restful night's sleep is one in which I am able to fall back asleep after the 600th time I have to get up to pee, and I keep having dreams in which I try to explain to my horribly deformed newborn son how it can't possibly be my fault that he came out that way because I was so careful and wouldn't even eat egg salad during my pregnancy. Three more weeks is an ETERNITY." But I didn't. Because I suspect he knows all that and is just trying to put a good face on it.

*heaving a deep sigh*

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

In other news - I had my baby shower! Below - the invitation (with names and addresses redacted to protect the innocent):

Now - you might wonder at the family throwing a shower with unwrapped gifts - but the truth is, Sandy has so very many uncles, aunts, and cousins - quite apart from friends and acquaintances, that if they were forced to sit through a standard shower with me opening everything individually we would still be there today. 80+ invitations went out - and nearly 70 people were able to come. That's a whole lot of unwrapping. So a few years ago the family instituted the paper-free rule, which enables both host, guest of honor, and other guests to do what SHOULD be done at showers; stuff their faces with delicious food, admire everyone's clothing, and tell stories about their own weddings and deliveries.

The "ness-ting" play on words is because I frequently go by Nessa or Nes. I requested the bird theme, because a) I like birds and b) my stomach is perfectly oval and I have been tempted several times to paint it blue and then take a Demi Moore photograph.

No. Really.

Anywho. Important things you need to know about my shower.

1. I could not find a dress that didn't make me look like an utter sack of pudding. I looked everywhere I could think of for a month. Nada. Finally, I gave up. So if you look at the following pictures and wonder at my taste in fashion - suck it. At this stage of the game they were all lucky I was willing to leave my house and be seen by other human beings.

2. It was thrown, (very generously), by my mother-in-law. This meant it was being held in NJ, which consequently meant my mother, my brother and his girlfriend, and my cousin Heidi who traveled from Norway for it, (!!!), would all be staying here at my house for the weekend. Also, my friend Meg who flew in from Colorado for her bridal shower, and stayed for my baby shower. Cleaning the house, stocking the pantry for guests' midnight snack raids, and making four extra beds? Not so much fun when you are 35 weeks pregnant. Though was very glad to have them of course. Just, you know, tired.

So anyway. The Friday before the shower, (which was on a Sunday), my husband came home from work full of mischief and said, "things are looking pretty insane over there, are you getting excited?" He'd had to stop by his mom's house. I was instantly suspicious, "why are they getting ready already?!" I said, "the shower isn't until Sunday?" He replied, "you know! Things have to be 'staged'." Oh god. What does that mean?

I remembered my sister-in-law's baby shower at my mother-in-law's house. She turned her entry hall into a big top and had a horse dressed up like a circus pony out in the driveway with her farm manager dressed up like a clown holding the reins. There were giant popcorn machines everywhere. Oh god. I thought hard. Birds. What could she do with birds?! Doom. I immediately began worrying that folks would be wading through a sea of peacocks to get to the door.

"Staged?" I said. "Oh yes," Sandy said, enthusiastically. "Craig Kiely is there right now with three of his minions getting things ready." (Craig being a local and very talented florist/wedding flower person.) I was instantly overwhelmed. "She hired a FLORIST?!" He laughed at me. "Of course!"

You might be surprised, readers, to learn that someone who has zero problem mentioning her cervix on the worldwide web, might hate to be the center of attention or have much fuss made over her in real life, but it is TRUE. It was incredibly sweet of my mother-in-law to go about making my shower a real EVENT - but it was also terrifying for me to contemplate attending it!

Especially since I hadn't a thing to wear...

Anyway - the day finally arrived, and luckily I was so busy getting breakfast ready for all our house guests and talking to them over scones that suddenly I realized I only had 45 minutes to get ready. I ran upstairs and showered quickly, dried my hair but didn't bother styling it, threw on a dress, and it was time to go. I didn't have the leisure to fret too much over my appearance, which was probably the best thing that could have happened.

And as we pulled down the driveway of my mother-in-law's house, I realized I'd been silly to worry about peacocks.

Because obviously it made much more sense to have someone dressed up as a stork out greeting folks instead. (That's my "phew! no peacocks!" face.)

My mother-in-law realized I'd arrived, and came trotting out to gift me with a "fascinator" she'd found at the Stately Homes By the Sea Designer Show House at Holly Hill, in one of the boutiques.

And THAT'S the face that says, "still! could be worse! could have been peacocks!"

(The tag dangling from it read "Sweet Mother's Blue Bird of Happiness" - so it was utterly appropriate. And I received many props from Sandy's aunts and mother for wearing it for the entire shower without a qualm.)

When you entered the house, the first thing you saw was the tree.

Yes. You read that correctly. Clearly this was one of the things that required staging. It was covered in moss, birds' nests, orchids, and blue ribbons.

It also had a little pagoda bird cage attached to it, with two very pretty apricot-colored canaries or similar singing inside. Phew! No peacocks.

(Sandy and I beneath the tree)

My brother's girlfriend Jasmin had been commissioned to make cookies for the event by Sandy's various aunts. Jasmin is a very talented baker/chef, and she took as her inspiration the motif from the invitation. Here's a link to her blog post about the shower and her creations for it...

And here are the pictures of her cookies that Sandy took:

She also made these fabulous cake pops in nests, but I don't have a photo of them. She does on her blog though!

And here is a photo of me wherein I am feeling like a poorly dressed, utter cow, but contriving to look not terrified and overwhelmed while mingling in a social situation.

Note: The hat? Still on my head.

The tablescapes - so pretty!!!

Look at the napkin wraps! They were gorgeous! And the little place cards were eggs with feathers and ribbon...cunningly displayed on this freaking amazing giant nest in one corner of the solarium. Um. I am hoping my mother-in-law held onto the nest because it would be truly awesome to take some pictures of Rhys in it once he decides to show up.

Centerpieces!

Another shot of the tree because Sandy took 2 million pictures of it.

The wee gorgeous birdies who are totally not peacocks:

And finally, a shot of yours truly standing with my sister-in-law Nora in the middle of the room where the gifts were displayed, in total shock. The hat? STILL ON!

Now that this is out of the way, hopefully I can finish the freaking Mexico travelogue! Stay tuned...

*Incidentally, we no longer need Dr. G for the ultrasound interpretation, because I'm not kidding, Sandy suddenly turned into Amazing Ultrasound Technician this morning. I'm looking at the screen and seeing bizarre blobs, and meanwhile he's saying, "oh look! There's his eye! There's his hand! That's his umbilical cord! There's a foot! Look at the placenta! That's his brain!" And I'm going, "Where?! Where?!" like a demented parrot. It was like that one time in Norway on the Norway in a Nutshell train from Oslo to Bergen when he spotted a moose and I couldn't tell what the hell he was talking about and missed seeing it. I was so pissed about that. And this was totally just like that. Only the moose is in my uterus.****

**That ranks up there with "your cervix is softening nicely" on the list of things one should not say to me before I've had a cup of tea in the morning.

***Baby Center is like the Jerry Springer of pregnancy web boards. You can't take any of it seriously, but it's freaking addictive - so many of those women are completely insane! Or trashy! Or both! It's awesome.

****Dr. G is estimating that Rhys is going to be a high 7's low 8 pounder moose. I said, "do you think my hips can do it, Dr. G?" He said, "Yes." I said, "I will bounce on my birthing ball until I pop if I have to! I will do hip swivels! We WILL do this thing!" and he said, "That's the spirit!" or something to that effect. Maybe it was more like, "I like your attitude." Either way. This was a slight improvement on last week's visit when he said "with your frame I don't think you're going to have any issues birthing," and I couldn't decide if I should be offended by that or not. Like...does he mean I've got a big ass and hips? What does that mean? Frame? What frame? Jesus!