My life at 35 weeks pregnant, could not be any more insane. At this point, I am literally taking it day by day. Thinking about the future only leads to an overly dramatic, hormone intensified meltdown about my life, and where it is going. I bring you back, yet again, to my favorite quote: "There's a strong correlation between being happy and (1) being basically in control of your own destiny; (2) being physically healthy; (3) being happily married; (4) living in a country where there's opportunity." I am absolutely NOT in control of my life right now.My first [and favorite] element that is out of control. Baby 2.O. I have no idea when baby will grace us with his/her presence. I have no idea if it will be a smooth, uncomplicated labor. I have no idea if baby is a girl or a boy - and I cannot wait to find out! I will tell you what I do know. According to the 35 week sonogram, Baby 2.O is 6lbs 4oz (4 oz's less than Brock at this point - though this was done at 34 6/7, Brock's could have been done at 35 4/7, which would make their weight identical. And sonogram weight's are not exactly accurate, but whatev.) Baby is head down. And baby is currently, very healthy. I would like to add a couple other observations at this point. A friend of mine recently delivered a 6lb, 39 weeker. She never felt too physically uncomfortable. I now realize, if I had given birth to this child one week ago - when it weighed 6 lbs, I would never have been all that physically uncomfortable either! It's only been the last couple weeks that I have noticed the waddling, the hip discomfort and the inability to easily switch sleeping positions. Also, to note, I am holding strong at a 21lb weight gain (if you took a gander at the link above to this same post from my pregnancy with Brock, I was right at 20lbs - so again, very similar.) Despite identical pregnancies - I am still holding out hope that 2.O could be a girl, though a boy would be mighty wonderful as well. Seeing as I am still, to this day, absolutely in love with and obsessed with Brock.
The next element of life, for which I no longer have control is where I will be living next year. In March, I find out where I match for residency. I have done all I can at this point. I have turned in my applications, and all I can do is wait, hope I even get any interviews, and then hope the programs I like, like me. I would LOVE to stay in Kansas City, but that is only a slight possibility.
The last element of my life, over which I do have some control, is passing my board examinations. I recently found out that I have to retake one exam. So now, while I busily try to prepare for the arrival of a new baby and continue rotating so I can graduate on time (and of course, my October rotation is one of the most important clerkship's I will participate in because it is with UMKC - a residency program I may hope to join), I must also be rigorously studying to retake the exam on November 30th. The prospect of relaxing at home with my 2 children for an entire month is lost. I must again study, study, study, while family and friends get to enjoy the newness of Baby 2.O and the silliness of Brock. Though, who are we kidding? As if I wouldn't get a little stir crazy at home all day everyday; I will more than likely welcome the reprieve of slipping away to Latteland for a couple hours to study.
Luckily, I still have #'s 2 (debateable), 3 and 4 of my quote well intact. And though my stress level is nearly through the roof at this point, I cannot truly be all that upset about it. Because though I claim to be out of control of these elements in life, I chose to be in this position. I am glad I even have the opportunity to finish medical school and become a physician. I am over-joyed that I get to expand my already beautifully perfect family. And, if I take life, day by day, as I should, I am completely happy (and a little uncomfortable).
Lastly, I absolutely MUST give Matt some credit here. He just keeps truckin' on, working 12 hour days at Cramer, Inc, then coming home and doing little odd jobs around the house. There truly is no rest for the weary around this place. Thank goodness someone around this house is emotionally stable, and levelheaded, cause as I hope it has become pain-stake-ingly obvious that I am not, and, well, Brock is 22 months old, I'll give you one guess as to how stable his emotions are...