welcome to the crib.

well, actually, the real crib is currently sans mattress, lined with tinfoil to discourage the cat from frolicking in it, and stuffed with posters, paintings, and a polaroid camera, refugees from the former junkroom that is slowly being transformed into a nursery. we have a mini bedside sleeper for the impending arrival’s first days, making the crib a last frontier and repository of the detritus of our old lives – it probably has cigarettes lurking in it somewhere. this virtual “crib” is far tidier and less crowded, a welcome respite from the urgency of nesting.

everything feels a little crowded these days…my ribcage, my lungs, even my stretchiest pants. i’m eight months pregnant. officially, thirty-five weeks this coming Thursday…which comes as a bit of a shock. not that i failed to register the significance of the positive pregnancy test or the nausea…but i didn’t actually believe i’d really get this far along, this close to full term. i spent weeks 25 through 32 on strict bedrest in the maternity hospital four hours away, sending my cervix all the “short but mighty” vibes i could muster, and willing the baby to stay put just another day, another week. the wee one appears to have listened (bless the child) and now i’m home, back on my feet, waddling freely about the neighbourhood, and still pregnant, carrying so high i can barely sit down. go figure. :)

the unpredictability of pregnancy is the most amazing aspect of the whole experience, to me, even wilder than the stretch marks currently snaking their way up my body and threatening to commingle with my eyebrows. you can’t fully plan a pregnancy – even in the most basic sense. you can chart your ovulation and time your romantic encounters all you want, but there are no guarantees.

once you are pregnant, you can’t be sure whether you’ll be green and sick for nine straight months or sail through with nary a hangnail. you don’t know, at the outset, whether the pregnancy will be successful, and – if it is – whether it will bring you a bundle of boy or girl, or both, or more (!) you don’t know whether your belly button will pop, whether you’ll be stricken with the afore-lamented stretch marks, whether your baby will decide to present breech or head down once delivery date comes near…or even whether or not that date will have any real bearing on when the baby decides to appear at all.

my godson was two and a half weeks late, by all counts. i myself have been waiting to deliver any minute for almost ten weeks, and still, no doctor can tell me when this wanted, awaited little person is likely to arrive. now is way better than february was, and i am grateful to have made it this far: another two or three weeks would be even better, as the official due date isn’t ’til May 18th. but i will admit, i harbour a secret fear that this baby, having come so far, will decide just to keep on hanging out until June. or that s/he’ll come tomorrow, before i get my long-awaited pedicure. i want attractive feet to focus on during labour…ha!

am hoping for just a little more time, to try to get this crib – and the real one – in order.