It’s a little after 1:00 AM, and I just went and checked on Chroi. She’s not due for another eight days, but I figure we’re in the home stretch. She could deliver early, and there’s a storm front coming in from California tonight. Arthur and Keira were both born during a rainstorm, so I’m paying close attention to her as the barometer drops.
But she looks OK, I think she’s still got some time left. Although, she is showing that she’s more uncomfortable – shifting her weight, and laying down to nap. And she’s quite bitchy with Keira, too, chasing her off and not wanting anyone to mess with her.
Oh I remember those days! When I was pregnant with my first, by the end of the term, I was so miserable; puffy with water weight, my feet were so swollen that none of my shoes would fit; the skin on my belly pulled so tight I thought it would pop, and no matter how hard I tried I could not get comfortable. Like sleeping on top of a watermelon. I finally took to walking around the mall, for miles it seemed, just to kick-start my labor and get it all over with. Little did I know it was the last time I would ever have peace and quiet.
Just kidding. Peace and quiet is highly overrated, I’m sure.
But I can relate to the crabbiness. When you’re fat, puffy, and uncomfortably carrying a watermelon in your belly, you can get a little crabby. Keira better look out, ’cause Mama’s not having any of it. Chroi’s watermelon is more like one of those giant squash-pumpkins you see at the fair in the bed of a pickup truck.
Ugh. Poor thing.