EIGHT MONTHAROOS!!!

Today is my eight-months-along-birthday. OMG. Can you feel my excitement?? I feel like I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I have five weeks left. My babies have all come two weeks early, so if Gage follows suit, I have THREE weeks left. So. Dang. Exciting.

I was trying so hard to smile in the above picture, which Ben took on Sunday. But my face is so poofy that it's kind of hard to smile right now. Weird, huh?

My feet have really embraced the poofiness with this pregnancy:

They would poof on and off with my others, but man, this is crazy poofiness. The tops of my feet feel bruised. Isn't that weird? If I'm on the floor and getting up, I have to put one leg against the floor, obviously, and it hurts the top of the foot on that leg. Ben thinks my feet are hilarious. They are his own little playthings. He enjoys gently pushing a finger into the tops of them, and then watching as his finger leaves a big dent in my foot that slowly fills up with fluid again.

Last week, my perinatologist was so concerned with my poofiness (it's in my face and hands, too) that he took my blood pressure. It was pretty high - 134 over something. You're supposed to call your doc if your blood pressure is above 140, my pregnancy book tells me. It so alarmed him that he is now having me do non-stress tests once per week and ultrasounds once per week, in addition to my now-weekly gynie visits. My poor mother has to watch my kids so much. I was at Smith's the next evening, getting some stuff, and I ran into cute Dawn and Noelle from my ward. They saw my feet and were like, "Holy cow. Are you OKAY???" Dawn actually walked me to the pharmacy area and had me take my blood pressure, right then and there. It was 142 over 86. I called the labor and delivery department when I got home, and they said that I should come in immediately if it is 150 or higher on the top and 90 or higher on the bottom. Amazingly, my blood pressure dropped the next day and hasn't hovered any higher ever since then. Ben says it's an answer to his prayers. I forget sometimes that people pray for me. It makes me happy. He told me a couple of weeks ago that he was begging Heavenly Father to take away my nausea, pain, etc. It really touched me that he was praying for me. I realized that, when it comes to Ben, I spend all my time thanking Heavenly Father for him, but then I forget to pray for him. He's just the best. Despite the fact that he likes to play with my poofy feet.

I can't reach my toes anymore, so Ben has become my pedicure guy:

It hurts to have other people trim your nails, just FYI. But I don't have a nail file. So I had to just flinch and occasionally yell, "Owwww! Too deep! Too deep! I'm going to bleed!!!" He painted my nails purple, because purple is my favorite color.

Want to see more craptastic ultrasound photos? I knew you would!

Feeling peaceful at 32 weeks:

Looking like he has one of those fat suit masks on his face, also at 32 weeks:

And playing Skeletor at 34 weeks:

These pictures so frighten me. I hope he looks okay when he comes out. :)

At my 34 week ultrasound (last week), they were guesstimating his weight to be 6 pounds, 10 ounces. Yikes. Bikes. My gynie pooh-pooh's this guesstimate. He says that ultrasounds this late in pregnancy are usually really off when it comes to the weight of the baby. Ain't that the truth.

Baby's anemia is holding relatively low, as are my antibodies. For awhile, they thought that they may have to give the baby a blood transfusion soon after his birth, but now they think he's going to be AOK without one. Good. I've never seen a blood transfusion take place, but I don't imagine that it's pleasant. I don't want needles stuck in my baby. Unless it's absolutely necessary. At my ultrasound this week, they discovered that my amniotic fluid is a little low. I had this issue with Sadie - they had to induce me with her, two weeks early. Which was AWESOME. If the same thing happens with Gage, I won't be sad. The perinatologist keeps telling me to stay hydrated and keep my feet up. I told him that I'm really trying, but that I barf a lot. And water makes me nauseated. But I'm drinking lots of low-cal grape Gatorade. I also told him that trying to keep my feet up all day with three kids is basically impossible, but that I am trying.

I had a gynie appointment a couple of days ago, and I'm dilated to a one! Don't get too excited, folks. I once sat at a three for THREE WEEKS. But it shows progress.

I'm having all of these fears about post-baby time. I know that I get baby blues for about two weeks after the baby is born. And it is sooooo hard to cope. So I'm starting to get anxious about that time. I so wish I could skip the baby blues phase. I'm jealous of women who don't have that issue.

Another thing I'm anxious about - I have decided not to breastfeed. I'm very happy with that decision. I have tried three times; I have failed three times. I've blogged bountifully on this topic. But today, it hit me: If I don't breastfeed, I won't lose the baby weight very fast or very easily. Breastfeeding is like the best diet in the world. You don't even have to watch what you eat, or jog. You just breastfeed, and whoop! You're skinnier than you've been in years. But you know, I will have just had a baby. I need to be kind to my body. It may take longer to lose the weight, but that's fine. I think it will be worth the weight - get it? Worth the WEIGHT? - to bottle feed this baby. For my sanity. Sanity trumps chubbiness.

Ben says I'm edgy lately. We were driving to Nat's house last night (it was Troy Boy's birthday - a post on that later), and I was telling him how much I hate that stupid Spaceman Stu McDonald's commercial. It makes absolutely no sense. Is the moral of the commercial that McDonald's food will make gravity go away? Why does he have to walk like that, bent backwards, to see the stars? Why can't he just tilt his head? It's freaky. It's dumb. I hate it. So I was telling Ben this, and he's like, "Wow, Kar, it's just a commercial. You're really intense about it." I was like, "No I'm not. I'm just telling you that I dislike that commercial. If you wanted a girl without opinions, you shouldn't have married me."

Yeah, I guess I am a little edgy...

Okay, friends. Five weeks (or maybe three weeks) to go! Let's get this little man OUTTA HERE!!