5/10 - We hit week 37 this past Saturday, which all of the books and online references describe as, "At this point the baby is considered full term and nothing will be done to stop labor in most circumstances." Faith has been kind of hoping to give birth this Saturday while the calendar thing at the top of the page says 16 days left, either way we're pretty close.
The "surprise" baby shower was this last Sunday (thanks Janet and everyone!) and since then Faith and her Mom have been cleaning and organizing the baby room, while I plunk away at the family room (mud & paint again, ugh..). Meanwhile Tink got attacked by an animal or a hawk a few weeks back and is starting to feel better (and sneak back outside). I shaved her legs around the wounds, which gave her what Faith called "clown legs."
Zane has been doing his best to outgrow his environment. I'd been saying he's a hyper, scrawny-butt kid, but Mrs. H. is pretty sure he's not going to be a scrawny baby. Considering the size of Faith's belly I'm tending to agree. He's still pretty active in there, but none of the big "I'm going for a walk around the belly" excursions of months previous, more of a "so this is what coach class airplane seats are like" stretching and fidgeting.
For a numerical analysis of the progress of increasing belly-ness we turn to the following chart...
4/26 - Pretty amazing that we are in the last 30 days of the pregnancy. Faith has decided that it would be nice to have the baby on the 12th of May, 9:30am, thank you very much. Not sure how she's planning on pulling that off, stay tuned.
Zane, like me, wakes up around 5am most days. A couple of months back I'd have my hand on Faith's belly carefully dowsing for signs of baby with very little to show. Seems like he'd always move just as I'd drift off or take my hand away.
It's kind of like fishing with lures when we were kids: you'd be casting and winding and jigging, trying to perfect your technique for attracting a fish and nothing would happen. Then, as you started daydreaming or got distracted, *YANK* a fish on the line! Soon, instead of trying to perfect my jig I'd try to lure myself into a state of distraction, sure that the fish would then strike.
Didn't work with fish, doesn't work with babies. Still, we try to rationalize that these things work, kind of like reading horoscopes.
Sometimes we play a version of hide and seek, where he sneaks his foot around the belly and I try to follow. Great fun, until Mom wakes up and yells at us. Speaking of Mom, she's in good health and spirits (except when woken by the "boys"). Her bladder and stomach have been pushed off to the side and given less room, requiring each to be serviced more frequently.
I've re-purposed an old James Taylor song as Zane's new lullaby:
Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rockabye sweet baby Zane
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Wont you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby Zane