23W4D

I suppose it's time to admit it. My most successful tactic for cheering myself up is... pretty immature. It goes like this: I'm all alone or with just James. "Bum." And then I giggle uncontrollably. Works every time.

Bum. Heeheheheheee. :) I am definitely a Griffin.

James commented the other day that I should probably stop doing that, because it's likely that Pterodactyl will pick it up, and then do it in sacrament meeting or something. I wouldn't be too embarrassed when she's still smallish (admit it--if a toddler in sacrament meeting said "Bum" and then proceeded to giggle incessantly, it would be hilarious), but there would eventually come a day when it just wouldn't be cool any more.

I'm not sure I care enough to stop doing it myself, though. Where would I be without my instant cheer-me-up? Depressed and bored/boring. Surely nothing is worth that... And it's better than your kid swearing in church, and then explaining they heard those words from you, right?

I am currently faced with the overwhelming task of creating a baby registry. The lists of things-you-supposedly-need-to-have-on-the-registry they provide are way too... extensive for my purposes.

Seriously, I'm fairly confident that maybe 10 (20 if I'm super lucky) people will get anything for me. That, and I'm reasonably certain these 1-20 people aren't going to have $40+ each they're willing to spend on stuffs for me. And it seriously feels wrong to have more expensive items on the registry like a nice quality car seat/stroller combo... do I know anyone who has almost $200 to spare? I don't think I do. I'm not confident anyone will throw me a shower, either.

Maybe I should just put things I REAAALLLY want on the registry, and then search Craigslist and ward members' homes for the rest of things I honestly don't have too many opinions about. I'm hoping to get many, many things secondhand.

In the meantime, I'm having a blast (sarcasm, here) spending bucketloads of time reading millions of reviews on all the bottles, toys, bathing supplies, onesies, and nasal aspirators (so THAT'S what they call those gross nose bulb things...). And discovering things I should probably get my hands on that I hadn't considered needing, like, for instance, baby nail clippers. Adventures.

It also occurs to me that sometime in August (or possibly September) I will be faced with the task of getting Pterodactyl OUT OF MY BODY. That's in like 3-4 months. That will be gone before I know it.

I seem to recall that sometime in 2009 while I was baking cookies, I looked up at the clock, and said with sudden worry, "I am not looking forward to labor."

Yeah, still not looking forward to labor that much. I've discovered I'm not afraid of it (that's a plus), but it still doesn't sound like it will be the most enjoyable time of my entire life. I'm pretty sure joy is supposed to happen after labor is OVER.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm grateful to be living in Hippietown, USA. There are enough people around here that are skeptical of hospitals that they built this beautiful, super comfy birth center next to the Riverbend hospital as an alternative and just as safe birthing location.

(If anything did go wrong, I could get to the operating room in less than three minutes. And if it was something like a hemorrhage, I'd be doomed even if I was in the hospital. And the doctors would be peeing their pants there, anyway. They were wise in making sure they had the means to deal with things that need absolute immediate attention. They are just as prepared to deal with something actually scary as they are in the maternity ward.)

So assuming I don't develop pre-eclampsia or gestational diabetes or something, I get to have a labor about as comfy as is possible. I'll get to move around as much as I want. (Sweet.) And eat/ drink whatever I want. (Sweet.) Wear whatever or as much (or as little) as I want. (Sweet.) Take as long as I need without feeling like they want to do a C-section because the obstetrician desperately wants to go home. (Sweet.) Take showers, lounge around in the tub, hang out on the cushy bed with the pretty quilt. (Sweet). They even have an iHome at your bedside table. (Sweet.)

This sounds infinitely better than getting fifty bajillion wires strapped all over me (and therefore becoming much less mobile, and possibly stuck in bed where I'll be forced to labor on my back)... and better than not being allowed to eat or drink... and being surrounded by gross hospital smells...

So, yeah. I realized that most of my anxiety about labor was due to things in and about the hospital environment. I'm not crazy enough to voluntarily labor miles and miles away from a hospital, but I have no qualms whatsoever about laboring in a homey birth suite next door. Hospitals are stressful and germy.

Anyway, my dad wanted a belly bump picture. Today I have a bump! ... It's not much of a bump. But there it is...  (Ooh! My closet door is so shiny, it's a little reflective! ... That's weird...)

Ta-ta for now,
Jenna and Pterodactyl