I know I’m “only” 37+ weeks, but holy shit am I all done being pregnant.

I feel bad about it. I want to relish the time I have left. I know I won’t get to do it again. And, despite its discomforts and inconveniences, I have not hated this pregnancy. Parts of it have been really cool, and even most of the less-cool parts have been quite tolerable.

But I’m done.

These once-a-week ultrasounds and non-stress tests? Despite the fact that they’ve largely all pointed to “just fine,” they are not making me feel better. They are not keeping me calm.  Tuesday all but pushed me over the edge.

Arrived at the OB’s office on Tuesday morning for the non-stress test. Thankfully, my mom was in town for a visit, so she could hang out at home and play with the kids while I was at the office.  Sat in the waiting room an unusually long time, and the first thing the medical assistant told me when she called me back was, “we still haven’t heard from the maternal-fetal medicine office about an ultrasound for you.”  I was a little confused. I already had an ultrasound scheduled for 3PM that same afternoon, but at one of the normal ultrasound offices.  “Oh no,” she said, “you’re supposed to go to MFM.”  At which point the other medical assistant chimed in with, “oh, she may not know about that yet.”

THAT’S REASSURING.

OK, so it turns out that my last ultrasound showed a slight increase in fluid volume (which I knew), and because of that, they wanted me to have my next ultrasound at the MFM (high-risk) office. I didn’t know because this was only decided late Friday afternoon, Monday was a holiday, and here it was, Tuesday morning. OK. Fine. Whatever.  I’m well-acquainted with that office, that’s where all of my billions of ultrasounds were during my last pregnancy. Fine.

Non-stress test went well. Apparently a decaf latte from Starbucks is the key to a ridiculously reactive baby. I actually had to sit there a bit longer just to wait for her to chill out and do a nice, even baseline heart rate. But ultimately, test went great. Yay.  Nurse practitioner comes in (because why would I ever see my own OB?), I’m measuring a whopping 7 weeks ahead. Honestly, I think that’s what I measured when my twins were born. No wonder none of my shirts fit.  She mentions the ultrasound with MFM (which they managed to schedule for the same afternoon, thankfully), and says we’ll just have to see if he recommends any… change of plans.

I’ll just go home and make sure my hospital bag is packed, thankyouverymuch.

Headed to the hospital with my mom and my kids in tow, since (assuming all is well) we have to take my mom straight to the airport post-appointment.  The receptionist and ultrasound techs remembered me, couldn’t believe how old my kids are, and despite not seeing him in over three years, remarked how much my son looks like my husband.  Nice to be back.

Ultrasound went well, all parts where they should be and seem to be doing their jobs. For the third time in recent weeks, the ultrasound tech remarked that the baby seems to have a lot of hair, very unlike my older kids.  Fluid volume, while a very subjective measurement on ultrasound, does not appear quite as alarmingly high as previous measurements.  And then… the baby decided it was a good time for a nap. One bit of criteria for passing these biophysical profile ultrasounds is seeing movement.  This kid? Totally asleep.  We poked, we jiggled, I ate a snack. Totally still except for a perfectly nice heartbeat and some lovely breathing motions.  Sound asleep.  Great.  She sleeps like her father and brother. I’ll appreciate that later, but not now.

High-risk doc came in, said everything looks totally fine. No need to change plans and move up delivery, it’s just one of those things. Except…. do I usually feel the baby move? Well, sure. She moves just fine, I think. Well, I think we’ll just send you down to Labor & Delivery for a non-stress test. No. No. No. Had one this morning, it was great. Please, not another hour on the monitor with my mom and my kids to deal with.  He put the ultrasound wand back on my belly, she finally waved her arms around, and I was free to go.

And now?

I’m back to being completely freaked out and paranoid about movement.  All day, every day.  Half the time, I’ll have a snack or dinner, lie down, and she’ll throw a little party and make me realize how foolish I am.  The other half of the time, I get distracted by life and kids. I’m not paying attention. I can’t remember when she last moved, or moved much.  I panic. She naps.  I lie in the dark, still as I can, while the seconds tick by slower than ever.  Eventually, of course, she moves.  But I’m wound up. I can’t sleep, I’m in a near-constant state of panic. If I get busy doing something else for a few hours, I panic all the more when I realize how long it’s been since I last panicked.

Lack of sleep, crazy hormones, and a serious case of anxiety over the one-in-a-million terrible what-ifs is making me a total basketcase. (Having the kids home from school for February vacation and bored is not helping, sadly.)  I’m bursting into tears over everything and nothing. I’m fried. I’ve got nothing left in the tank.

I am so freaking done with this part. I’m so sick of the worry and the blind wonder. I want to be able to look at her and see with my own eyes that she’s breathing.  Yeah, I know that if my doctor was really all that worried, I’d be seen a lot more often than once a week.  But that week between appointments kills me. Some days it’s easier. I notice more movement, I feel less pain.  But so many days aren’t. I’m busy, I forget to “listen” to my belly.  I do three kick counts a day, I eat extra snacks to wake her up.  She always does what she’s supposed to, ultimately, and it never quite gets to the point of calling the hospital and going in for a check. But it never calms me down for long.

I’m not an especially anxious person by nature, but is there anything that gets us more worked up than worrying about our own kids, whether they’ve been born yet or not?

Two weeks. Maybe less. I know I’ll soon be looking back on this with detached amusement. I’ve almost made it.

I just hope I’ll have a little bit of sanity left when I get there.

On many levels, everything is just fine. Baby is moving regularly, though I still get paranoid and may have woken up at 4am and had a snack just so I could do a kick count.  Blood pressure is still nice and low (this time last pregnancy, it had spiked to 150/100 and they almost delivered me on the spot).  Blah blah, boring pregnancy stuff.

But I’m still measuring 1-2 weeks “ahead.”  Still carrying around, it would seem, a slightly larger kid and a bit of extra fluid. So, not surprisingly, my OB ordered another ultrasound and a non-stress test. Heck, I had already consulted Dr. Google, I knew this was coming.

So why is it freaking me right the hell out?

Intellectually, I know this is no big deal.  I know that minor amounts of excess fluid happen, and hey, somebody’s kid has to be greater than the 50th percentile, right?  As for the testing, I had the ultrasound/NST combo twice a week at the end of my last pregnancy.  It’s old hat.

Maybe it’s because this seems to be more of a surprise?  Last time it just seemed par for the course. Yes, I knew they were watching Rebecca because she was so small, but she always checked out just fine, and I don’t remember feeling that concerned.  This time, everything was so quiet, that to have a slight change in plans makes me nervous. (And yes, it’s possible I’m mis-remembering my own stress levels from my last pregnancy – it was, after all, 3.5 years ago, and I’m well aware that everything turned out fine.)

Additionally, I feel like there’s a lot less feedback when working with the OB’s office, as opposed to the maternal-fetal medicine specialist.  In my MFM days, the women who did the ultrasounds were particularly chatty, telling me everything they were seeing, and always making me feel pretty reassured.  The ultrasound was followed within minutes by some feedback from the doctor herself, so I knew right away where we stood.  Now, the “regular” ultrasound folks are friendly but a lot more tight-lipped about what they’re really looking for, and then I have to go hang out for a day or two while I wonder if my OB is going to call me and say anything at all about what she saw.

This week is one of those times when I’m feeling oh-so ready to be done being pregnant, if only so I don’t have to play these games anymore.  I had a routine check-up last Friday morning (with the nurse practitioner, because why would my actual OB ever be available?), and then a call at 5:30pm saying that my OB did, in fact, want to order a non-stress test.  But that the scheduling people were already gone for the day, so I should hear something Monday.  Great, that doesn’t make for an anxious weekend or anything (hence, the 4am kick count).

Got the call at 11am Monday from the office, basically saying my only available appointments were 1pm Monday (i.e. 2 hours from the phone call) for an ultrasound and 2:15 on Wednesday for a non-stress test.  Super. Naptime. Great. I’ll come with my non-sleeping entourage.

Had the ultrasound, got to see the baby playing with her toes and get a case of the hiccups.  Lovely.  And then the ultrasound tech finishes and says, “I’ll just call the doctor with the preliminary results and see if she wants you to stay or if you’re OK to go.”  Um, hello. That is NOT reassuring in the slightest, and yet gives me no specific feedback whatsoever.  Five minutes later I was happily waved out of the office, but I still have no further information.  Still just excess fluid? Anything else of concern?  No freaking clue, but it only serves to make me feel like there is something specific they’re keeping from me.  Paranoid? Maybe, but I have no reason not to be.

(Even though M constantly reminds me that, if they were actually concerned in any real way, they’d send me straight to Labor & Delivery… still…)

In the meantime, with the rotten timing of Wednesday’s non-stress test, what made the most sense was to have M take a vacation day so I could go without the kids.  Except, of course, the scheduling coordinator was kind enough to let me know that my OB was actually covering the hospital that day, so she may get called away and have to reschedule.  I’m already prepared with my shit-storm of a response if that happens – they will have to send me to the goddamn hospital and hook me up there. I am rearranging my life for this appointment, they will accommodate me. Period.

Non-stress my ass.

And, once again, we’re back on pregnancy talk. I swear, I’ll say something about my challenging-yet-delightful 3-year-olds again, soon.

Went in for my 32-week checkup yesterday, and I am suddenly measuring a few weeks “ahead.”  Of course, during my last pregnancy, I always measured absurdly far ahead.  But, that time, there were two kids in there.  This time, not as much.  Three weeks ago, apparently, I was measuring right on target.  Additionally, I learned that I passed the 1-hour glucose screening by the skin of my teeth – a single point under the threshold.  (Last time I failed it by a single point, though…)  Between measuring large and my barely-passing score, my OB is wondering if I may, indeed, have gestational diabetes.

First order of business: ultrasound. Stat. Never have I gotten an appointment so quickly, literally 24 hours later.  And, joy of joys, I got to drag my 3-year-old entourage with me.  Thankfully, they were well-behaved and the ultrasound tech was good-natured.

One thing I miss about my high-risk days? The instant feedback. All of my ultrasounds were in the high-risk OB’s office, and not only were the techs pretty talkative and forthcoming about what they were seeing and measuring, but the doctor then came in immediately after the ultrasound and told me what was up.  Now, in low-risk land, the tech doesn’t want to say much, and I have to wait for results and the return phone call.

Anyways, turns out the baby is measuring pretty average, but there appears to be more fluid around her than normal (the likely cause for my larger-than-dates measurement, not to mention the old irritable uterus). And additional fluid is another potential indicator of gestational diabetes.  You know what that means…  the Three-Hour Glucose Test!

If you’ve been around this blog for a while, you might remember how well the three-hour test went last time.  To sum up: very very not well. There were lots of needle sticks and lots of crying. It was bad.  And seriously, what good can come of a hungry and dehydrated pregnant woman?  NO GOOD AT ALL.

I have a marginally better attitude about it right now.  For one, obviously, if I do have gestational diabetes, I want to get right on that and make sure it’s managed properly. Much as I hate going low-carb/low-sugar, I’m not messing around with this baby’s health (or mine, for that matter).  Plus, there is now a blood draw lab right across the hall from my OB’s office.  Not only do I not have to sit in a crowded hospital waiting room, but the phlebotomist at this lab is nothing short of spectacular.  Honestly, I’m a phlebotomist’s nightmare. My veins are awful, I’m a terrible stick.  But this woman has gotten me on the first try every.single.time.  I am going to her. Period.

It will all probably have to wait until Monday, when M can take a vacation day to be on kid-duty so I can sit in a lab for a few hours.  But if you see a bunch of hysterical, starving, dehydrated tweets on Monday morning, you’ll know why.

Whatever, people. Seriously, you can’t wait three whole weeks? It bugged me, is all I’m saying.

And then, sometime in the last couple of weeks, it started to creep into my brain.

I was so spoiled during my theoretically-high-risk twin pregnancy (in which, thankfully, nothing ever went wrong).  I had so many ultrasounds, I lost count.  If my blog is an accurate record, the complete tally looks to be 17.  I got to see the babies often, which was always happily reassuring.  This time?  A whopping TWO ultrasounds?  Seriously, I had the anatomy scan at just shy of 19 weeks, and that’s probably going to be it.  I wouldn’t even have a late-third-trimester scan to see if the baby is vertex, because with a repeat c-section, who the hell cares?  I miss all of those little ultrasound visits.

But, if I’m being completely honest, the major driving factor behind wanting another ultrasound was the relative uncertainty the tech expressed in the baby’s gender.  Seriously, that 20-25% was bugging the crap out of me.  I know, I know.  Our mothers NEVER had a single ultrasound.  All that really matters is that the baby is happy and healthy. I would be happy either way.  I KNOW.  But I’m a planner.  I have clothes to buy, quilts to make, names to choose.  And while I’m not an over-the-top pink-and-frilly kind of person, I would rather not have a wardrobe comprised exclusively of yellow and green.  Call me superficial, I don’t care.  That’s how I roll.

Anyways, after much hemming and hawing and an “oh, just do it already!” from M, I made the call and made the appointment.  Goldenview Ultrasound in Brookline was the only place I found nearby, and it got a good recommendation from someone in my moms-of-twins club.  The rates were reasonable (especially on a weekday). I figured, if I was going to pay out-of-pocket for an ultrasound, I might as well get the 3D photos, but I definitely didn’t need the DVDs, the heartbeat recording in a stuffed animal (creepy!), or any of that other silliness.  Just a nice look, that’s all.

It was not medically necessary. It was a luxury.  Chalk it up to straight entertainment. And you know what? It was totally worth it.  It was so freaking cool.

For one thing, the baby is pretty well confirmed to, indeed, be a GIRL.  We did an initial 2D scan, and even to this unprofessional eye, I could tell we were looking at girl bits.  Excited to be welcoming another girl, and much relieved to have as good a bit of confirmation as we can reasonably get.

Also? I kind of think she looks like Rebecca in that picture (above).  Not 100%, but that was my first reaction.

Ignore the weirdly cut-off arm in the picture (I swear, she has two hands and 10 fingers, we saw them), tell me that’s not the cutest freaking baby yawn you’ve ever seen?

She had her hands up by her face for a large portion of the time we were looking.  Several times, she seemed to be gnawing/sucking on her forearm.  It will be fascinating to see if that’s a habit she has on the outside.

So, pride swallowed, words eaten.  Baby visualized, gender confirmed.

All is well.

Did you have any 3D or elective ultrasounds when you were pregnant?  Do you think you would?

If you asked almost anyone in the last month or two, they’d say I’m having a boy. No idea why. That was my answer. That was M’s. That was both kids’, my sister-in-law’s, my stepmom’s… everyone.

The ultrasound went well this morning. All limbs and other important parts were present and accounted for and appeared to be doing exactly what they were supposed to. The baby was moving around a nice amount, heart rate was good, et cetera, et cetera.

The tech wanted to err on the side of being conservative in making pronouncements, and ultimately decided she was 75-80% sure it’s a girl.

Well, I’ll be damned. I guess we were ALL wrong.

Or, you know, probably wrong. I’m not wild about that other 20% of uncertainty, combined with the fact that I am not likely to have any more ultrasounds. But hey, we get what we get, and we don’t get upset. Right?

Plus, Mommy, Esq says that I can blame my recent breakouts and overall poor pregnancy complexion on this little girl, so I guess that’s worth something.

Truth be told, if I were to be able to choose this baby’s gender, I probably was leaning towards wanting a girl. Maybe that’s simply because potty training is fresh in my mind, and I know which one of those I’d rather relive. Maybe it’s just a romanticized idea of moms and daughters (let’s ignore the ways in which we make each other neurotic). Maybe it’s because the girl I already have is my “easier” child. But I was also quite happy when I had myself convinced it was a boy

Either way, I’m psyched to have a healthy-looking baby in there. Now, if I could just put in a few additional requests? No colic, no reflux, and a generally easygoing baby? Sound fair?

2007 was quite a year. Got pregnant, found out it was two, stayed pregnant. Got huge. Avoided most complications, survived pregnancy in the summer. Scheduled a c-section, went into labor anyways. Babies stayed in the hospital, but not too long. Babies came home, I stayed with them. I’m a mom now. A mom of almost-five-month-old twins. The only pictures I took last December were of my dog (and there are only a couple of those). Now, my computer groans every time I open iPhoto for all of the baby pictures. My, what a difference a year makes.

December, 2006 – M and Winnie in the yard.

December, 2007 – Daniel flying home from Chicago

Rebecca in her Christmas PJs

Today was plenty of good news for babies, which is of course a mixed blessing for me. I half hoped there would be some indication for delivery, since I’m so tired and uncomfortable, but it’s just not in the cards.

Babies looked great on the ultrasound. Crowded, of course, and I was quite correct that baby boy A is way low against my cervix now. But fluid levels were good, breathing movements and all of that were good. And, though it’s always possible the estimates are off, they seem to be growing quite well. Baby boy is estimated to be about 6lb7oz, and baby girl is all the way up at 5lb7oz. 12 pounds of baby in my belly… no wonder everything hurts.

Non-stress test was fine. As always, little girl decided it was a great time for a nap and we had to get out the buzzer, but after that she woke right up. My blood pressure was high, but not as bad as Monday (which was apparently as high as 150/100 at one point!), so my doctor (who was at the hospital, anyways) sent me home.

So, here I sit! Still really uncomfortable, but the contractions have gone away for the moment. Hopefully I’ll get in a good nap this afternoon, since I was not able to sleep well last night at all. If everything stays the same, I’m off to the OB on Friday for my pre-op appointment… Who knows, maybe I’ll make it to next Thursday, after all!

But I wasn’t totally off the mark, as yesterday was a rather new and different day.

I called my OB’s office to report the new pressure I was having, mostly to ask if I should do anything or ask for anything special while I was already going to be at the hospital. My doctor wasn’t in, but my favorite doctor (ha!) from a few weeks ago called back and said I should come by the office after the NST for an exam, presumably to see if my cervix was dilating. Sounds like fun!

Off to the hospital. The BPP ultrasound went just fine, both babies dutifully practicing their breathing motions, still plenty of fluid, all of that good stuff. The non-stress test started rough, though. For some reason, little miss really likes to sleep during those, so it’s been taking a while to get her to be “reactive.” We keep ending up needing to zap her with the little buzzer or poke her to get the heartrate variation we want. Once we finally had the results we wanted, the nurse was almost ready to let me go when she realized she had never taken my blood pressure. And then it got interesting. I never heard the actual reading, but it was apparently high enough that they decided to keep me a bit longer for monitoring, especially since it was taken after an hour of me lying down. The on-call doctor ordered blood tests to see if I was developing preeclampsia. Basically, if the bloodwork didn’t come back with good results, it was going to be birthday time. Yikes! Thankfully, it all came back just fine, kidney and liver function were good. Four hours after the start of the NST, they sent me home. I had missed the opportunity to go in and get checked at the OB’s office, so I was instructed to call her in the morning.

Of course, as soon as I left, the back pain I had been experiencing in the uncomfortable hospital bed turned into pressure, and soon I was having regular cramping. By 7:30, it would start as a low back pain that wrapped around my lower belly like a really bad menstrual cramp. Hubby and I started timing them, and they were about 9-10 minutes apart, with sometimes a lesser aftershock at 4-5 minutes. I remembered my OB saying I should call anytime I had anything regular and painful, so call I did. The on-call doctor sent me back to L&D, so at nearly 11pm, off we went. The cramps indeed showed up as contractions on the monitor (it’s not all in my head), and babies were good and active, not distressed at all by these new developments. They were still relatively far apart and somewhat irregular, though. And when the nurse did my very first internal exam (short fingers! OW!!), we discovered I was not even a little bit dilated. The contractions, fun though they were, were not making changes in my cervix. So at about 1:00am, back home we went. I had been worried about a “false alarm,” but the nurse reassured me that I had done the right thing to call and come in, and not to worry about it.

Unfortunately, the contractions stuck around all night, ranging between 4 and 20 minutes apart. And these were not the painless braxton hicks I’ve had for the last many weeks. These hurt, enough that I had to really concentrate on breathing through them and not tensing up the rest of my body. Needless to say, it was an awful night’s sleep.

I talked to my OB this morning. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a big part of me that sort of hoped she’d tell me to head in and just deliver today. But as the contractions were still irregular and not close together, she wanted me to stick it out and wait at least for tomorrow’s growth check at the peri’s office. Much as I’d love to be done, the babies are still officially premature at this point, so we need a better reason than discomfort to justify delivering them. She was kind enough to say that she half hoped that tomorrow’s ultrasound would show slowed growth so I could get it over with, but in the meantime, the plan is to just kind of suck it up. (No, she obviously doesn’t want my babies to not grow well! She just understands how “done” I am…)

After a few more contractions this morning, they more or less petered out by about 11am. I’m still having some low back pain, but it’s definitely not the contractions I was having earlier. I’m resting and drinking my water like a good girl, and hopefully will get in a good nap to try to make up for last night.

Tomorrow at 11 is the big (final!) growth ultrasound, so we’ll see how it looks. If either of them has slowed down or stopped growing, it may very well be delivery time. If not, well, I get to keep on hanging out until I either go into labor on my own (which is feeling more likely!) or make it to August 9.

Things are getting interesting around here!

The craziest part of the visit, however, was our discussion of when to deliver. First of all, if I go into labor spontaneously anytime tomorrow or later, they will not attempt to stop me. If it were to peter out on its own, they wouldn’t try to restart it, but they won’t stop me. OK. Wow. And then she said, “so, when do you think we should have these babies? I’m thinking 36-37 weeks.” Whoa!! Used to be 38, then 37-38… now 36? Holy crap! That’s two weeks!!

Basically, the plan is this: I’ll have my twice-per-week BPP and NST. If anything looks concerning, they might decide it’s a good day for a birthday. My next growth check will be in two weeks (August 1, to be precise). If either one of their growth has slowed or stopped? Birthday time. If growth is still good, they’ll schedule me for induction or c-section at right about 37 weeks.

WOW! I can barely wrap my mind around it. Three weeks at the most, possibly two or less. I’m pretty darn excited, but mostly it’s just not sinking in at all.

I’m off to my OB’s office shortly, where we definitely need to have a discussion about delivery method. Baby boy seems to have really taken over at the baby A position, and is head down, so vaginal delivery is an option on the table. We shall see.

Oh, and my blood pressure seemed to be creeping up at the NST today. We’ll see if that issue proves to be the dark horse that determines birthday time. I’ll update after the OB’s office if there are any interesting developments.

OB Update
After talking to my OB, she’s totally cool with me going directly for the c-section. She seemed to think it was probably a good idea in my case. If I change my mind and/or they both flip to vertex, I’m welcome to try for vaginal (if they don’t flip, then only if she’s the one on call, because she’ll do a breech extraction of twin B). But otherwise, she’s going to schedule my c-section for right about 37 weeks! To be moved up if things change, of course. Holy crap!!

The ultrasound (BPP) went well. Plenty of fluid, both babies moving around well, etc. We’ve almost stopped referring to either one of them as baby A or B. Neither of them is at all engaged in my pelvis, so it remains to be seen who will “present” first. Baby boy is still head-down, and baby girl seems quite comfortable staying breech. The funniest moment of the ultrasound was when we were getting a good look at baby boy’s face. It was a nice profile shot, and we could see him not only moving his mouth, but sticking out his tongue! We tried to get a 3D picture of it, but no luck. But while we were watching, in the fluid space next to his face, we suddenly saw a shape that looked mysteriously like a little foot! Indeed, his sister was sticking her foot right by his face. The still picture we got doesn’t do it justice. It was pretty neat in motion. In the end, we got a nice profile of baby boy, and a 3D of baby girl:

The non-stress test took a little longer than intended. Both babies were a little more cooperative when it came to being monitored, so that was a good thing. The nurse didn’t need to stand over me, holding the sensors just so on my belly. But after about 20-30 minutes, while baby boy’s heart rate was moving all around as they like to see, baby girl was being pretty steady and quiet (“nonreactive”). I tried drinking some ginger ale to see if the sugar got her going, but that didn’t seem to quite work. So the nurse suggested we get “the zapper.” Needless to say, this was alarming to me. It sounded like she was going to get a taser and stun the baby. But in fact, the zapper is just a little hand-held wand that looks rather like the doppler that OBs use to hear the heartbeat. But instead, you put this one up to the side of the belly where little miss sleepyhead lives, press a button, and it makes a short buzzer sound. That’s all. And, as it turned out, that’s what it took to wake her up and get the readings we were looking for. She even developed an amusing case of the hiccups. Sorry for the disturbance, my dear. We just needed to make sure you were OK in there.

In the end, another good day. I had a couple of contractions while on the monitor, but not too many, and they didn’t seem to bother anyone. Though I know a good result today is no guarantee of what tomorrow will hold, each successful testing session makes me feel like I’ve “made it” for another week. Tomorrow, I’ll be 33 weeks. Discomforts notwithstanding… it just keeps getting better. I can scarcely imagine how far I’ve come. 35 weeks is a big goal for me, and it’s only two short weeks away! 36-plus would be better, and if I start to go past 37, I might lose my mind. But it’s all just so soon!