Well, that’s a lie. We still have to finish getting her nursery put together, but after that … it’s game on.
Xander
33 Weeks Pregnant
Baby is the size of a pineapple
“Thea, would you stop breathing down my neck. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“I don’t think that goes there.”
“Thea,” I groan. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
I’ve been trying to put together the crib for the last hour, and Thea picked the hardest fucking crib in the whole universe. This thing is impossible, but I’m determined to do it myself. I was planning to do this next week, but I think her flocking or nesting or whatever it’s called has kicked in, because she’s turned into a psychopath. It’s Christmas Eve and she’s insisting that everything in the nursery is ready, like the baby’s going to drop from the sky tomorrow.
The baby isn’t due until February twentieth, but at our last appointment the doctor warned he thinks she’s going to come early since the baby is measuring big. Not by much, only by a week or two. Thea of course laughed hysterically at that, telling me she told me our child was a Viking like me.
But since then, she’s gone into this mode where everything needs to be ready. I’ve already put the stroller together and installed the car seat in the car, and she’s packed her hospital bag.
I keep reminding her we have plenty of time, but she won’t fucking listen.
Stubborn woman.
“If you’re going to stand there, make yourself useful and hand me that.” I point to a screw that’s rolled away.
She sighs. “You could at least ask nicely.”
I sigh, removing my baseball cap and putting it on backward. “Please,” I bite out.
“That still didn’t sound very nice, but okay.” She grabs the errant screw and hands it to me. “Do you want me to ask Cade to come over and help you? There’s a lot to put together.” She looks around at the items still in their boxes.
“I can do this,” I assure her.
I already have the dresser together, which also functions as the changing table, and the armoire, but the crib, rocker, bookcase, and chest are still left.
Thea stretches her legs out on the floor, rubbing her stomach and groaning.
“She’s kicking up a storm.” She lifts up her shirt. “Look.”
I look over and my jaw drops because she’s not kidding. Her stomach ripples as the baby moves around and around.
“That’s crazy.” I shake my head, in awe of the whole thing.
“Ugh.” She presses her hand to the spot and the movement disappears. “I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever. I wish she’d come already.”
I chuckle. “She needs to cook some more. Leave her alone. We don’t want her to come out until she’s ready.”
“True,” she agrees. “But I’m going to really hate life the closer I get to my due date.” She lowers her shirt and lets out another groan. “You know what else?”
I sigh, resolving myself to the fact that I’m going to be here all night putting this stuff together.
“What?”
“I want a refund, aren’t you supposed to get bigger boobs when you’re pregnant? What kind of sorcery is this? Mine are still small.” She glares down at her chest.
“There’s nothing wrong with your boobs, Thea.”
“What if something’s wrong though? I read this article the other day about this woman that accidentally starved her baby to death, because she was breastfeeding and thought the baby was eating but it wasn’t. Maybe I should bottle feed.”