I went shopping Friday night while Az stayed home with the kids. By the time I got home, it was dark. The air was too cold for anyone to be out on their porches. I pulled into the driveway and I just sat there, free for a few moments in the bliss of being completely unnoticed.

I stayed in the car for maybe 30 minutes, watching the night sky and the trees, soaking in the silence. I have found this stage of pregnancy draining because of my appalling obviousness. I am large and clumsy. I don’t fit between the space people normally leave between chairs anymore. I have to ask them to excuse me. I have to speak up.

I huff when I walk up steps. I cannot even stand in line too long without squatting or leaning to rest. People stare.

I hate this. Now more than ever, I want to fly under the radar. I want to deal with this discomfort, and the disappointment that it isn’t over yet, without the questions and the stares and the playfully harassing demands “Haven’t you had that baby yet?” I want to be silent and secret until I feel ready to face the world.

Az cannot handle silence. He tells me every day that I look angry. He wants my words, and he wants me to tell him frequently that I am not nursing resentment against him. We have been married almost eleven years, and in that time he has not yet accepted that I can have emotions that are not about him. There is no polite and loving way in this marriage to say, “Please be quiet. Leave me alone.”

I want to hide myself in a cave and lie full-length on the cool limestone until it leaches all my troubled heat away. I want to be still and quiet in the dark, and not come out until this baby is ready to be born. I want to coccoon myself, and think about something else for a while.

She will come when she comes. There is nothing I can do about it. And so I want desperately to do nothing and be unnoticed until she comes.

Sunday night I had contractions every fifteen minutes. Monday they stopped. Now I am back to just plain old pregnant.

The usual folk methods for inducing labor are not working, and lately I imagine my husband mournfully confiding in someone, “My wife only wants me for my prostaglandins.” Poor fella.

I read about the poor, desperate pregnant women who take castor oil in hopes of stimulating labor. It causes horrible, um, digestive trouble, and the thinking is that the bowel spasms might start contractions in the uterus, too. Ha. I know torture when I see it. That method can stay safely on the shelf.

I am trying to enjoy the spring and be patient. I have terrible springtime allergies, and I am trying not to take my medication while pregnant, so the best I can do is carry tissues and wear a mask to keep out the pollen. JellyBean needed a lot of convincing this morning that Mama is allowed to wear a mask (”What is it? What is it? Take it off, Mommy! Take it off!”), but by the end of the day she and Sweetpea were taking Mommy’s mask and using it as a hat, a bowl, a lily pad for a frog, and a pretend scoop of ice cream.

Now maybe I’ll try and get some more sleep. I keep telling her that it’s nice out here and she should come out to meet her sisters and Daddy, but she pays no attention. Not even born and already ignoring me. That’s motherhood for you.

JellyBean is finally back to her old self.

The doctor said that she might have stomach cramps even after the other symptoms were gone, and that might affect her appetite. She recommended a teaspoon of Mylanta a few times a day, so yesterday JellyBean drank her dose, and immediately asked for breakfast. She ate well all day, and even requested water to drink.

Just in case I needed more reassurance, I was upstairs reading your blogs when I heard the shrieks from downstairs: “Mine! Mine! Share! Shaaaaaaarrrrre!” JellyBean and Sweetpea were debating ownership of a coveted book (Karaoke Kid Songbook, if you really want to know).

It takes energy to be selfish. I never thought it would make me so happy.

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Last night I started having contractions fifteen minutes apart. They have eased this morning, so it may not mean much, but I can see the finish line. I am a little worried about finding someone to take care of the kids - a few friends and neighbors have volunteered, but mid-week could be difficult for them. We will find someone, I’m sure, but I am anxious.

If I go to the hospital, I have left Az instructions on how to post the good news of the birth. I am not sure if he will post the name we choose; he may prefer me to find an oblique way to inform you of our choice, and he does not know how to link or post pictures. But one way or another, you will see our new bundle of joy when she comes, even if you have to wait a few days.

Thank you all for your prayers. They have been much appreciated.

Sweetpea recovered from her sickness and is now happy and healthy. Now JellyBean is sick.

Two nights ago she stayed up all night vomiting. I used to think that was a hyperbole. Apparently, it can actually take a 3-yr-old ten hours to empty that little tummy, in intervals of 30 minutes.

She is keeping stuff down now, but she had a fever of 102.8 a few minutes ago, and she is quite lethargic. We are doing our best to keep her hydrated, but she often refuses to drink, and has little interest in food.

It is rough around here. We have seen the doctor once and may do so again tomorrow, depending on her condition.

I worry. I pray. I worry.

I hope I don’t go into labor until she is better. I don’t know how we would manage.

what a very pregnant woman and a potty-training three-year-old have in common?
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3bFC08_WRnU]
Of course you could.