Home Stretch...Stretch being the operative word here

My doctor reminds me every time I see him now (which is every two weeks and soon to be every week)that I am in the "home stretch." Well, stretch is the operative word here, kids, because good LORD am I getting big. I'm outgrowing some of my maternity clothes (super, just what i need is to buy more clothes when I only have a few weeks left) and my belly button has disappeared. In fact, my belly button is rapidly approaching the point where it will pop out like a turkey timer (yes, ask other women who have done this, this can happen!). I've been informed by not only friends & co-workers, but even the on-call doctor and nurse I saw when they thought I was in pre-term labor (long story) that I look like I'm carrying a perfectly round basketball under my clothes.

Comments these days about my size range from "boy you look like you're about to pop!" (not what someone with 8 weeks left to go wants to hear) to "boy you're all baby, aren't you?" and "he's just all out there in front now, isn't he?" My personal favorite came from my very blunt doctor who said, "well you're measuring big, but then you're short with no torso so it could be just that he has no where to go but out." Lovely. Thanks.

Here's the bitch about being in the home "stretch" stretching part about this... this has really been an easy pregnancy up til now. No more! Nope, now sitting, walking, getting up, sitting down, lying down, sleeping (or trying to) are all ordeals. I'm up to 3-4 pillows in bed each night (i'd start stealing from the dogs if they had pillows... already stealing from my hubby) and at times the couch is the only place I can sleep. Whenever I get up from a chair at work or at home I feel gravity pull on this basketball of mine (or else little William decides to re-adjust onto my bladder) and I have to pause and wait for the pain, stretching, moving, whatever stops. This makes people around me nervous (especially at work), like they're afraid they're going to have to play catcher and catch a little one coming out. I try to reassure folks that every movement I make these days is just a little slower, stranger, more uncomfortable or more painful... but they still look at me as though they'd rather I hide away for these last few weeks so they don't have to watch my very awkward movements.

The other lovely part about my size... my tummy is now a catch all. While this is convenient when I need a TV tray for my ice cream bowl or drink, it's a bitch when it becomes the shelf onto which crumbs, juice, oil and other assorted foods/beverages find their final resting spot. That is until I look down and see the collection of items sitting there and start brushing away at my belly like a madwoman. Not long ago my husband and I went to Mongolian Grill for dinner and when I got home my shirt (or that portion stretched over my basketball) was just splattered with assorted sauces (plum, soy and sesame being my best guesses). It looked like I had splashed myself in sauce rather than putting it on my food. At this point I just need to cut a hole in a large garbage bag, put it over my head and wear it as a full-coverage bib. Either that, or I'd better start dining in a rain coat and hip waders.

Oh god... and one last thing. I'm so big that my toes are now foreign to me. I'm not only talking about not being able to see them... no kids, I can't even reach them. My very sweet husband, after watching me groan and twist in what must have been a horrid and/or comical attempt to reach them, has now not only helped me paint the toes once, but later remove said paint. Needless to say... I have a manicure this Thursday. My husband is sweet... but the poor man is doing enough, he should not have to paint my toes! But I appreciate the fact that he's actually WILLING to.

Gotta love this adventure. Let's see just how much longer it lasts.