I’m officially 36 weeks pregnant, which means I have technically got about four weeks left… assuming this baby actually cares about my due date. Which, considering she is already her own person, who knows. She could show up tomorrow.
My hips are absolutely killing me. I feel like I’m eating constantly, but then I realize I’m really only eating like two meals a day. Mostly fruit. An absolutely unreasonable amount of fruit.
Also, my baby book didn’t even list this as “week 36.” It called it month 9, which annoyed me way more than it should have. I want my WEEK 36, thank you very much.
And as for preparing for this baby?
Hospital bag: not packed.
Nursery: lol.
Everything ready: absolutely not.
Do I even know what hospital I’m giving birth at?: NOPE.
We’re still waiting to hear back from a few apartments in California, so at this point I genuinely have no idea where this baby is going to be born.
If push comes to shove, I already told Hector that closer to my due date I may just have to go stay with him and his parents until we figure out the living situation. I genuinely did not think getting an apartment would take this long, but here we are.
We’re giving it until around September 10th to figure things out because my due date is getting very close, and by then I really need to be in California if that’s where I’m going to deliver.
Because the alternative is giving birth out here and paying completely out of pocket, and apparently childbirth likes to casually cost around $32,000 on the low end.
The easiest solution would probably be for Hector to fly out here early in the morning—it’s literally only a 30-minute flight—rent a car, or more realistically a U-Haul van, load everything up and drive back to California.
Because an SUV barely fit everything we brought to Vegas in July, and I have acquired even MORE stuff since the baby shower. The kid isn’t even here yet and somehow she already has more shit than I do.
But honestly?
I want to stay in Vegas.
It’s cheaper. I don’t really have responsibilities here right now. I can lay in bed all day. I can eat my weight in fruit. I have my parents here. I can actually rest.
Obviously I’m not planning to live with my parents forever, but it would be a lot easier to stay here until I have some solid footing. And honestly, there are approximately one million hotels in Vegas, so finding a job out here would probably be easier too.
It really just depends on Hector and what happens with California.
And then there’s the whole hospital situation.
Our new health insurance starts in September, but because I’m not in California, I can’t actually use it here. Once I’m back in California, I can change the hospital I’m currently registered with and potentially deliver at a better hospital.
Which honestly… I WANT TO.
Because I recently looked up the hospital I’m currently registered to give birth at and apparently hospitals can have Yelp ratings??? I didn’t even know that was a thing.
It has a 1.9-star rating on Yelp.
Then I looked at the Google reviews and it has an overall 3-star rating, and some of the reviews are… concerning. People are complaining about medications not being administered properly, and there are reviews alleging that the hospital doesn’t respect HIPAA.
Now, obviously, I’m not taking random internet reviews as absolute fact, but when I’m supposed to be giving birth there in approximately FOUR WEEKS, suddenly I’m doing a lot more research than I ever thought I would.
Like, why does my hospital have Yelp reviews?!
So yes, hopefully once I’m in California and the new insurance kicks in, I can change hospitals because I would really like to feel a little more confident about where I’m going to deliver this baby.
So when people who aren’t super privy to all the details ask about the baby, I’m like:
“Yeah, my due date is really close! It’s exciting but also a little scary!”
And internally I’m like…
Ummmm actually it’s significantly more scary than exciting right now.
I am excited to meet her, obviously. But right now I’m mostly excited about one thing:
THE OPPORTUNITY TO SLEEP ON MY BACK AGAIN.
That’s it. That’s the dream.
