Friday, October 30, 2009

Welcome to Maine, Scout!

It’s official: Our little northbound Scout has made it to Maine!

In fact, Scout is struggling through Mahoosuc Notch this very day, and I can feel it. I woke up nauseated and faint-y feeling, and could barely get out of bed after a long night of no sleep. Scout has been kicking less than usual this morning, most likely because he/she is concentrating so hard on getting through all those boulders—kind of like his/her mommy back in the day:

Then again, maybe our southbound Scout is just in a relaxed mood; he/she has just left the town of Hot Springs, NC, and is headed for the Smokies.

OK, enough trail talk. If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that the Appalachian Trail is all a big, adventurous metaphor for Scout’s journey of growth in the womb. (Though I must admit, when I’m writing these things, I have an image of a naked little newborn hiking on the trail, with tiny Leki poles and everything.)

Here’s what’s really up with Scout:

Scout’s most likely grown past 18 inches long from head to toe and weighs at least five pounds. (No wonder I feel like I’m hauling a watermelon around!) Scout’s little kidneys are fully developed, too, as is his/her liver. Most of Scout’s physical development, in fact, is complete. Now Scout just needs to pack on the pounds. (Though I—and my pelvis—really, really, really won’t complain if Scout turns out to be a compact, petite little newborn.)

Here’s what Scout might look like at this stage, only Scout is much cuter, I’m sure:

And how am I doing? Ahh, you don’t want to know. Here are a few words to describe me: Cranky. Irritable. Stressed. Tired. Ready to have this baby, envelop ourselves (with Hubster and the cats) in the cozy cocoon of our house, and leave the rest of the world behind.

Oh, and worried. I guess this is normal, too. I guess it would be a lot worse if I weren’t continuing to work out (mostly yoga at this point) and do breathing and relaxation exercises every day. But I worry about Bobcat Beau attacking Little Scout. I worry about Scout getting the flu and dying, particularly since I'm apparently allergic to the flu shot. I worry about getting postpartum depression. (This is actually a legitimate worry in my case.) I worry about Hubster being at camp all summer while I’m home alone and working full time. How am I supposed to do that with a tiny, utterly-dependent-on-me baby? I have no family close by, and I hate the idea of leaving Scout with a babysitter or in daycare.

I worry that my house is a mess and won’t be clean in time for Scout (hopefully, that worry is a prelude to the “nesting instinct” I keep hearing about but haven’t experienced yet). I worry that I won’t be able to get all my work done at work; it hit me yesterday that my maternity leave starts in less than four weeks. Oh, my. And I have so much work to do! I worry that we won’t have enough baby “stuff,” even though my sister has equipped us with most of the big items (car seat, stroller, bassinet, etc.).

For people like my mom who are freaking out over my worrying right now … don’t worry! I’m not eaten up with worry. It’s not making me crazy or keeping me up at night or anything (I leave that job to my oversized belly). It’s just there. I honestly think it’s a hormonal “mom” thing.

Overall, things are good. The work will get done, the house will get cleaned, we’ll figure something out for next summer, and we'll probably end up with too much baby stuff when it's all said and done. Meanwhile, I need to get back to work so I can get it all done before my last day in (gulp) three weeks and five days.

If both Scout and I (and Scout’s Daddy) can make it through Mahoosuc Notch, we can make it through this.


Martha said...

Oh, Mahoosuc Notch!
I am only a post-Trail bride, not a thru-hiker, but I have given birth to three children, and I vote for Northbound. The hard part is at the end.

Waterfall said...

Nooo! The hard part is at the end for southbounders! Didn't that husband of yours teach you anything? :-)

I must admit, the whole "climbing the big mountain at the end" does seem to be a better metaphor for labor and delivery, though!

Martha said...

Heehee. I know his eyelashes froze together near the end, but that was his own fault for thinking that Georgia would always be warm!

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