In the past I have been hesitant to ever admit that I had a nesting urge near the end of pregnancy…mostly because people seem to throw it around as a foolproof evidence that you will go into labour that very evening. Having never actually gone into labour (three inductions with three babies), I get tired of the ‘guarantees’ that everyone claims.
“Oohhhh, you’re washing your floor. You’re nesting – the baby will be here by morning!”
“Uh huh. Or I could be fed up with my filthy floor. There is also the consideration that this might be the last time I wash it in about six months.”
So today, when I found myself furiously scrubbing walls, trim, and baseboards in every room on the second floor of the house, I was slow to admit I was nesting. Maybe this is just my usual spring cleaning gear kicking in. Yeah maybe, but the fact remains that it seemed urgent because a brand new person would be sleeping up there and I wanted to make a good first impression. Or something. The walls are clean, so I am one step closer to being ready to have a baby. Such bizarre logic. I really should have spent the morning as I had planned: planning a freezer-meal cooking session, so I would have a grocery list in hand for tomorrow, and a freezer armed with food for a few frazzled days in the future. (Read: I would be ready with food for a few frazzled days, not that there will only be a few frazzled days.) That would make a lot more sense as far as being ready for a baby.
At least in a few weeks, when I am up at 3:30 a.m. feeding for the fourth time that night, I won’t have to be annoyed by the grubby hand prints on the walls or the dusty baseboards? Haha, a very productive morning, indeed.