Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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Happy New Year

December has dissolved into the ether and January has risen around me. January, usually such a bleak month. This year it is the month my daughter will be born. I feel like writing again. About what, I'm not sure. But I have a feeling that the upcoming sleepless nights that are about to take over my life will be a lot easier if I write here. I am nine months pregnant. Due in three weeks. THREE WEEKS! Holy shit.

I'm still working. It's tough, but I'm managing. Would like to save all my medical leave for after the baby is born. I decided to take off the entire three months offered. So, I have a week of work left and then I'm off. Unless I go into labor before then. Which would be welcome relief. I'm done being pregnant. It is THE hardest thing I've ever done. Ever. I've been sick for about seven months now. Want to choke the women who moon about, talking about how much they loved being pregnant. It has been awful. Yes, it's amazing that life is growing inside of me, that I can feel my daughter beat rhythms onto my ribs, can feel her little fingers scraping near my hip bone, can feel her BONK BONK BONK my tummy when Dad sings a mangled version of Frere Jacques into my belly button... but. I'll just leave it at that. But.

We are ready. Purchased a new vehicle even! We have two cars, oh my God, SO suburban of us! The car seat is set up. The baby swing at the ready. The crib and bassinet, waiting impatiently for that little body to take up residence. We've read books. Books with rigid parenting opinions. Books that espouse theories conflicting with those books and still other books that disagree with those books. Who knew parenting was so damn controversial?

The hospital bag is packed. We are ready to embark on this parenthood adventure.