35 Weeks

So according to my earlier due date (Oct. 8), I am 35 weeks today.  According to my later due date, I will hit 35 weeks on Thursday.  Having to switch OB practices just 2 weeks ago, I have no idea which date my new doctor, who I haven't even met yet, will go by.  Nor do I know when he will be scheduling my C-section.  I keep telling myself this is how most pregnancies go; parents are rarely given the date and time of delivery and just have a ballpark date to go by.  However, having had a date that we lost seems to make this more difficult.
There's lots that's been more difficult this time around.  Or just different.  Both, maybe?  This time feels like it's the first time in so many ways.  I never felt Max kick or flip or move like this guy.  I feel like I'm carrying much differently this time.  Opposite seasons mean more swelling than I experienced with my first pregnancy.  Plus there's the whole "I already have a kid" thing which makes being pregnant all the more difficult.  I thought that would be counteracted by the whole "I don't have a job outside the home" thing, but it turns out my previous boss was much more understanding and patient than Max.  
My patience is running thin these days.  I feel bad about it.  I can't predict when I will have the patience of a saint that I feel I should have, especially with Max, or when I will blow a gasket because I can't find the Bactine or because I spilled the sugar or because the dog left pawprints on my freshly swept floor.  I know when I am acting irrationally even as it's happening but I can't stop it.  I'm whole heartedly sorry when it's happening, but I still don't stop.  Which is equally maddening and causes a whole snowball effect.  
Then there's the fact my Grammie died.  Last week.  We've known it's been coming for a while. Years, even.  And in recent months and weeks, we've known it was coming sooner than later.  She stopped being Grammie a while ago.  I began mourning when that happened, when Max stopped being a source of happiness for her.  When she didn't seem to care about our new addition to the family.  When she stopped using words to communicate regularly.  I was sad every time I went to visit her.  I visited her less frequently because I couldn't handle the emotional wringer it put me through.  But she had her ups every once in a while too, and I wanted to be there for those too.  It's been a long few months and I felt prepared for her death whenever it should come.  Even when we got the call a week and half before she died that she was "officially dying" (aren't we all?), I went to see her and we had a fleeting moment when I said goodbye.  She woke up briefly and put her hand on my cheek and smiled.  She spoke something that was either Polish or nonsensical words; either way, I will never know what she said.  But it was such a moment that I felt it was "our goodbye." I cried and thought that was it.  But it wasn't.  It felt odd to visit her after that moment, but I thought it was the right thing to do.  I cried when my mom called to tell me she was gone, but at the wake, I was as fine as could be expected.  A manageable sadness, but no tears.  (I was probably distracted by having to explain everything to Max, who is smart enough at 3-1/2 to not be satisfied by euphemisms.)  The funeral, not so much.  The next day, not so much.  When I finished a jar of jelly we had made together last summer, not so much.  Seemingly normal reactions to a grieving granddaughter, but my emotions make me feel so out of control sometimes.  
I love being pregnant, despite the tiredness, the difficulty in dressing, the swollen feet, the tiredness, the discomfort, the insanity of a zillion doctor appointments, the tiredness....Yes, despite all these inconveniences, I love feeling the kicks, I love reading everything I can with each passing week, I love planning for a newborn, I love the idea of growing new life inside me, I love the anticipation of meeting a new person to add to our family.  So all these loves outweigh the negatives in my mind.  I am just not sure about my emotional instability.  I feel pretty borderline much of the time when my hormones are in check.  Now the tears come way too easily, as does the rage and impatience.  Thankfully I have a very understanding and patient husband and a forgiving son.  I just get nervous thinking about if this is our last child or if we (I) have it in us (me) to do this again.
Then I think to myself, Let's just see how this goes.  We don't have to sign any contracts right now.  It took us (me) a while to be ready to have #2 and so far that's challenging but working out fine.  If we decide to go for 3, we obviously can't do it right away anyway, so why worry about it now?  
Right?  
Except I also happen to do a lot of worrying typically and even more when I am pregnant.  So like so much else, I probably will continue to do so.

This was the last time they saw each other.  He's going to miss his buddy, but I know she's watching over him and his little brother. 

This is a Grammie quote.  She put it in her autobiography that was published a few years ago through Hospice.  It's a gift we're all grateful to have.

This is when Grammie proudly gave us our completed wedding quilt.  We had been married for about 5 years at this time, but that obviously didn't matter.  We are grateful to have the beautiful handiwork of Grammie forever.