I am getting this question a lot now.
And I still don’t know how to answer.
So I give my usual, flippant response, “Oh, we expect delivery in anywhere from four to six weeks.”
I am so confused about my due date – and even thought it really does not matter, I would like to at least have a date in mind.
I am due on June 13.
Or so I thought.
At my 20-week(ish) ultrasound, I was measuring about six days behind, putting my due date at June 19. But my doctor said she would not change my due date unless it was one week off or more. Mine would be off by six days.
Still, everything I see and read at my doctor’s office (i.e. my chart, my disability paperwork, etc.) says June 19.
When I ask about it, she kind of just smiles, pats me on the arm and says it doesn’t really matter anyway. Look at my history with my stubborn 14-day-late Lola. It’s not like I expect a June 4 baby (although some of us can still hope, right?!).
So I hate when people ask me what my due date is. Was last Friday, the 13th, the beginning of the one-month countdown? Was yesterday?
I hate not knowing.
In other news, we still are progressing on the nursery and I hope that by the end of this weekend, maybe, I can get it arranged to the point where I can take some pictures.
Ray has, again, done an amazing job. And I can’t wait to share it with you.
(More so, though, with her, of course.)
Lola is being a great trooper. She got a new bed last week and has been watching as some of her things (furniture, especially) are making their way to Amelia’s room. I wondered if she would handle that OK, with the baby “taking” her stuff. But she is more interested in the baby’s toys (play mats, bathtub, bouncy chair, etc.) than the fact that some of her touch-and-feel board books have been redistributed.
Every time we unpack something, we laugh about Lola’s baby year(s).
First, it was the bouncy chair, which was Lola's "crib" for the first six months. And which still does not have a working play/toy bar because she, you know, destroyed it. Like she did the baby mobile and about a dozen other items.
Yesterday, though, it was the bottles.
We have, remaining, eight bottles with 11 nipples, 10 of which are size 2 and just one size 1.
See, Lola refused to ever go up nipple sizes. Ever. She would scream and throw her bottle at us whenever we tried to sneak on a size 2 nipple. And while we have never been opposed to letting her cry herself out until she adjusted to change, that was one area in which she would never adapt.
She wasn’t a difficult child at all (sarcasm, eye roll).
But in retrospect, that stubborn, “difficult” side of her has helped her develop into the most wonderfully frustrating strong-willed child. I have to say that despite our daily multiple battles of wills, she has developed the most amazing can-do attitude.
She wants to do it all herself. Undress herself, dress herself, somehow climb up into the Jeep herself, get into the car seat, buckle herself, plant flowers, water said flowers, make dinner, etc.
And no matter how many times you tell her that, no, she can’t walk by herself in the street because it's dangerous, she will ask again the next afternoon. And every afternoon thereafter.
She got mad at me Tuesday morning before daycare when I wouldn’t let her pull the overflowing garbage can to the streetside. Seriously, it was heavy; she couldn’t do it.
But she thought she could.
So we did it together.
And she still wasn’t happy about it. So I promised that that afternoon, when we got home, she could pull the empty one back the house.
Roughly seven hours later, she remembered.
“I get garbage by myself,” she reminded me as I pulled the Jeep into the driveway.
And she did.
- Bethany :)