Bed Rest FAIL

I am really, really bad at this bed rest thing.

I’m not out running a marathon or even doing laundry. My heart rate never increased. But I also just did a terrible job of lying still with my feet up for more than an hour or so at a time.

I just keep thinking of new things to do… just a little task, like printing something out or grabbing a drink, and while I know that my loving husband (who is back in my good graces following the inevitable post-argument rehash and meta-discussion, in which we talk about how we talked the first time, and now we’re back on level ground again – a good thing, too, because I really did not want to have to sort out any ambivalence about whether I truly wanted him in the delivery room…) or devoted children would happily help, I just haven’t developed the habit of asking.

So I haul myself up, do whatever it is that boosted me up in the first place, and then I think of three other little things to do, and suddenly it’s 45 minutes later and I’m still wandering around the apartment.

Which is really not the right decision, because my poor, svelte little ankles are a thing of the past:

Tres sexy, no?

Other than my toes bearing a startling resemblance to a package of mini-sausages, I’m feeling pretty good. I had a strange, not-quite-migraine headache for a few days last week, but otherwise am muddling along pretty well. Of course, my back is screaming at me in several different languages throughout the day, but that just proves that there was a reason I was on pain medication in the first place, and I can have an affectionate, heartfelt reunion with it after I give birth.

I’ve just passed the 35-week mark, and am expanding rapidly enough that Emily wasn’t quite able to fit all of me into the frame when she took the eight-month photo. (I don’t notice the swelling in my face in the mirror each day, but I’m definitely attaining spherical dimensions on film.)

She just barely had the chance to grab this shot before the camera battery died, so we’ll try again tomorrow.

And, alas, since I’m not having the slightest twinge of labor symptoms, it’s not looking like I’ll have a February baby. March works fine for me, and the earlier the better…