Although I continued to think about adoption fairly regularly, I had decided that it would simply be too much for me to handle and I had mostly decided on single parenting. As such, I’d given up on LDSFS, but S hadn’t given up on me. In what was perhaps a last-ditch effort to dissuade me from single parenting, S arranged for me to meet with a single mother and a man who was raised by a single mother. She (S) said it was just to give me an idea of what single motherhood entailed, but it was pretty obvious by the stories I heard that no one in the room thought I should keep my baby. It made me angry. I was sick of people pushing me toward adoption without asking me what I thought of things. I know that people meant well, but the thing about unsolicited advice is, it’s unsolicited. I didn’t want other people’s thoughts bouncing around in my head. I had enough of my own thoughts up there.
Have you ever seen the movie Wall-E? It’s a very cute movie I’ve seen several times. It’s set in a future where people no longer walk. They are fat, blob-like, and get around on little hover-chairs. Their feet are too fat and puffy to be walked on. At the end of May, My feet looked like Wall-E people feet.
Feet aside, I thought I'd be bigger at this point in my pregnancy. My belly was still pretty reasonable. I became convinced that the reason I didn’t have a bigger belly was because my baby was burning off calories for me. She had the busiest feet I’ve ever seen. She kicked and wiggled and hiccupped and punched happily for hours on end. I’m not sure where she found the room to move, but somehow she managed.
I bought diapers and wipes on sale at Target. All I needed was a car seat and a crib and I was set. I decided that my baby was going to be born exactly one week late (which she was!), so I had a little time left. I made a few halfhearted attempts at putting a hospital bag together but couldn’t find the energy or the motivation.
My mother spoke and planned as though I was going to keep my baby, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure how to explain to her that I didn’t feel I could make up my mind until the baby was born. But she seemed to know just the same, in the way that my mother so often seems to know the things I can’t voice.
My decision (sort of) made, I began to worry about more practical things, like money. I have a cosmetology license, so I knew that I was employable. But I hated the thought of strangers watching my baby for twenty-plus hours a week, and I didn’t want to impose on my mother and have people accuse me of making her raise my baby for me.
At my next doctor’s appointment, (TMI ALERT!) I had more protein in my urine than my doctor was happy with. My blood pressure was also high (for me, anyway), so my doctor ordered some blood tests to check for preeclampsia. If anything came up abnormal, my baby was on the way out.
I panicked. I was expecting another month to prepare. I wasn’t ready yet! After my blood test, I hurried home to throw together a hospital bag. I talked to my mom for a while and felt a bit better about things but the nerves remained.
My pregnancy books said to start watching my body for signs of labor. I wrote in my journal: “Oh, joy. One more thing to worry about. Because, you know, I don't have enough on my mind at the moment. Now I get to watch for signs of labor. Is irritation a sign of labor?”
My blood test came back fine, and now I found myself nervous in a good way. In a month, give or take a few days, I was going to be a mommy, and I couldn’t wait for my baby to be born!