Full Term

Happy Monday, everyone! It's been a while since I updated, so I made a point to sit down for a bit this morning to catch everyone up to speed. Reeve's arrival is slowly/quickly approaching, and I am getting more and more anxious as the clock ticks on. Tomorrow, I will be officially "full term," so for the past few days, I've considered it safe to try to coax him out. We've had some serious mother/son discussions, and I'm hoping we're on the same page. He is fully aware that Mom is not too keen on the idea of going past forty weeks. But, of course, he also knows that if he must stay in there longer than anticipated, Mom will politely deal with it. He's been making deals with his daddy, too, so the boy is probably confused. Maybe it will come down to who can offer the best bribe.
I've realized what women mean when they are nearing the homestretch and can't wait to have the baby out. I'm not tired of being pregnant by any means. A lot of women just get sick of dealing with pregnancy, and though in the beginning, I could have arguably grown sick of it, I've been blessed with a healthy pregnancy, so I've been able to enjoy each day of Reeve's little process. I am certainly growing more and more uncomfortable, but that's pretty common, apparently, so I'm not going to start complaining. 
I haven't had any contractions yet, and after much research and several inquiries, I think I will be able to identify a contraction when it happens. I've definitely had Braxton Hicks contractions like crazy for the past couple months at least. They are growing stronger and lasting longer, which the doctor said is a good indication that my body is doing it's thing to prepare for the real shabang.
Last night after my shower, I looked in the mirror and couldn't hold in the words, "oh my gosh, this looks fake." My stomach no longer looks real. It is so huge, it's almost humorous. Ok, it is pretty humorous. Lots of things about my body are humorous right now, but I won't go into detail, so as to protect the children.
Derick has been so good with his words. When I told him that my belly is huge, he argued, "No it isn't...ok, compared to the rest of your body, it is huge...but it's not huge." I'm blessed with a husband I will never, ever deserve. The bigger and stranger I get, the less fight he puts up when I ask him to rub my back or feet. Some women have husbands who have no problem giving massages. Not I. Derick never wants me to rub his back. Ever. So, I guess he's always thought I don't really need it either. He doesn't understand what years of tumbling and lifting people and being lifted and thrown around can do to someone. He's just never loved giving me back rubs, and he usually does a sub-par job at it....Until lately. He's done a really great job of pampering me, and I'm so thankful. I guess my humorous belly is no longer unnoticeable and he can finally see how a semi-sudden addition of 16 pounds can take a toll on the rest of my body.
Yes, so far, I've gained 16 of the allotted 25 pounds. (I'm counting from my original "healthy" weight because remember that I lost over ten pounds in the beginning when I was only licking ice cubes.) You wouldn't believe it if you saw me, though, and most of it has been gained in the past month. You would probably think I've put on around 100 pounds, no lie. I seriously fit in just a couple of outfits now. At the rate I've been gaining, though, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I gain it all plus some at the very end. I just can't quit eating, and it's so easy to allow myself to eat--even horribly-- because "Reeve wants it." I woke up at 4:30 a.m. yesterday and scarfed down a gigantic piece of red velvet cake and two glasses of Sprite. Last week, I ate five large biscuits covered in gravy and a piece of bacon. At once. These are just tiny snippets of the enormous amounts of food I eat every day. I don't drink nearly enough water, and I've let myself go quite a bit with the soda thing. For those of you who intend to have a baby some day: be prepared to lose all the self control you ever had. Derick would argue and say that I don't eat poorly. I do eat a lot of fruit and veggies, and I've even done *better* to add in meat here and there, but when it comes to sweets, watch out. I'm out of control.
I've decided that when Reeve is finally here, I'm going to take a semi-hiatus from Facebook. I will still upload pictures (and I know when I get comments on those, I will just HAVE to read them). I just intend to stop my thoughtless phone usage. It's become so easy to just mindlessly browse Facebook statuses while I'm sitting around, walking the dog, riding in the car, even eating at a restaurant. And lately, I've felt a little guilty about that. How much time and energy am I putting into stupid Facebook? Too much. It can easily become a distraction, and I never want to be the type of parent that just sits around on the phone all the time. Reeve deserves more from me, and so does Derick. Actually, society and God deserve more of my time. I'd love/hate to actually see a documentation of the time I spend with my phone in my hand looking at Facebook. Smart phones are great, don't get me wrong. It's so nice to just type in a search for something and have answers right there. And, I mean, we pay for the data plan, we better get some use out of it. But there is a huge difference, to me, between the occasional Facebook fun during down time and constantly having phone-in-hand. It's a sad truth that I've seen parents scream at their kids because the kids were interrupting the parents' phone time. I can't bash them too much because I'm ashamedly guilty of spending way too much time doing nothing on my phone. I just don't want to be like that. I don't want Reeve to associate me with a phone. That sounds weird, but I bet it happens. So, I'm making an effort now to use my phone less and to interact with people and God more. I hope I succeed at that. I'll still be on Facebook, of course. I'm just going to try to put an end to the habitual browsing. It's not really productive whatsoever.
Anyway, maybe by the next time I blog, I will have a sweet little boy beside me telling me what to type. Maybe not. Maybe he'll take his precious time. And that's fine. I've waited all my life for him; what's a few more weeks?