According to the calendar, I am 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant today. And according to what I can interpret of my own body’s signals, I’m no more likely to give birth today or tomorrow or next Sunday (my due date) than I was last week or the week before. Despite my doctor having told me a month ago that the baby was RIGHT THERE and that there was no way I’d make it to my due date, here I am, still round, still waiting, and now on the verge of what I’ve heard other women before me refer to as the “Oh my god, what if the baby NEVER comes out” stage.

Obviously, intellectually, I know as well as everyone else does that the baby will eventually come out. (And judging by the way he squirms and struggles against my stretched stomach these days, I think he wants to come out but just doesn’t know how. (Move toward the exit, little baby! It’s right in front of you!)) And although I also know obviously and intellectually that in a normal, uncomplicated pregnancy like the one I’ve enjoyed the best thing is to just let nature take its course and allow everything labor- and birth-related to take place in its own good time, I also can’t help wanting to just get it out of the way and meet my son already.
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Today is my first real day of maternity leave and I hardly know what to do with myself. I finally finally finally finished up the last of my office projects late last night, and yet my due date is still ten days away (although I’m scheduled to get a little “help” as early as next Wednesday), which is at once So! Soon! and also a vast expanse of unplanned, unfilled time to do who knows what. I of course have a to-do list that could keep me busy through 2010, but even as much as I’m relieved to have this opportunity to cross off the errands that have been on that list and on my mind for the past few weeks (and months), I’m also toying with the idea that now is my time to just rest and relax while I have the chance. The question is: Can I just rest and relax?
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Although I’m planning to work from home at little before the baby arrives, today is my last official day in the office. When I arrived this morning there was a giant bouquet of dark orange tiger lilies on my desk and a card from my supervisor of seven years saying how much she was going to miss me and how much she hoped I would have an easier time laboring in the hospital than I do laboring at my desk day after day. (A fine sentiment indeed considering my labor at the office is mostly low-stress and enjoyable!)

The flowers and card were a surprise, as I didn’t expect any kind of farewell gesture other than a few waves, high-fives, and “good luck”s, and maybe an under-the-breath “don’t let the door hit you…” from someone harboring not-so-secret resentment about the fact that I’m going on leave at all. (Breeders! The nerve!) Even though we’ve had little mini-parties for outgoing pregnant coworkers in the past (instead of calling them baby showers they were deemed “drizzles”), I didn’t anticipate one for me considering the people most likely to plan it were guests at the pre-baby party we threw at our house a few weekends ago. Honestly, I was glad it didn’t happen; it’s my last day here, but I still have a list as long as my arm of things that need to be finished up before I’m out of commission for good.

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Much of the nine months of this gestation (and before) was spent listening to advice, collecting stories, cataloging the wisdom of my elders (and youngers), and then figuring out what worked best for me, particularly when it came to “must-have” pregnancy products. Now that I’ve nearly earned my own been-there-done-that merit badge, however, I finally feel qualified to share a thing or two about what I’ve learned–despite the fact that perhaps the most stand-out lesson of all is that not everything works for everybody. Nevertheless, here’s what worked for me (and might for you too):
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What follows is the last and final installment of “The Hidden Costs of Having a Baby.” (Here are Parts 1 and 2.) After this, you’ll be glad to know, we can move on to more pleasant and exciting things like, oh, actually having the baby! (At my doctor appointment last Wednesday, I was told the baby had dropped into position and was, at 35 weeks, already RIGHT THERE and showing little chance in making it to his due date! So…wow! Yikes! Let’s get this taken care of and move on to the fun stuff, eh?)

Without further ado, the last and most heinous Hidden Cost of Having a Baby is, dun dun DUUUUUN…

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In light of the ragged economy, the rising cost of living, and all the ballot measures that promise to add hundreds and hundreds of dollars to our already astronomical property tax bill, the last thing I want to do is obsess over the expense of bringing a child into the world and then supporting him for eighteen-plus years. Alas, the only way out is through, and it’s better to be prepared than caught unawares by the collection agency, especially if the agent dares ring the doorbell while the baby is napping.

Last week in Part 1 of “The Hidden Costs of Having a Baby,” I wrote about maternity leave, the first major expense for working mothers, and today I’ll tackle Part 2, an expense that, long after your maternity leave is up, will continue to affect your bank account—and perhaps your entire working-mom lifestyle—for years to come. You might have always thought of yourself as a designer-diaper-bag girl at heart, but maybe this reality check will make you reconsider using that oversized tote you already have in your closet.
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You guys have given me a lot of good advice over the past few weeks. Now it’s my turn to pay it forward.

A reader at another site I contribute to recently posed the question “How much does it cost to have a baby?” At first it sounded like a pretty innocent and straightforward query, with an answer dependent mostly on whether your taste and budget tends toward the hand-me-down umbrella stroller or latest-model Bugaboo, the backpack-as-diaper bag versus this season’s hottest pattern by Petunia Picklebottom. Not so.
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Managers have already started taking projects away from me, coworkers are asking to be taught parts of my job, and although it’s been a month since I moved into my new office, I still haven’t unboxed any personal items because, before I know it, someone else (probably an intern) will be sitting at my desk all day while I’m at home with an infant, and why should anyone have to stare at pictures of my cats all day, especially when they’re not being paid? With six weeks to go before maternity leave, I’m already being phased out.

They can’t completely get rid of me, though (bwahaha), because my rock-solid, non-negotiable plan is to return to the office part-time next spring (I have to return next spring—financial crisis, mortgage payments, cost of childcare, blah blah blah), and because I don’t want to lose my mojo completely, I’ve latched on to this crazy notion that I’ll stay in regular contact with my company while I’m away, whether they like it or not.
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It’s official: I’ve entered the Uncomfortable Stage of pregnancy. After breezing through the first and second trimesters with (nearly) nary a whimper, the third trimester dawned with a triumverate of complaints: my back hurts, my ribs hurt, and I have to remain in a locked and upright position for two hours after a meal or else be destined to taste it all again, if you know what I mean.

At work, the staying-upright part is pretty easy, mostly due to the fact that no one has yet installed the hammock I’ve been requesting for years only half-jokingly, but the other two ailments—the back and rib pain—are causing me quite a bit of trouble.
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My mom asked last night if we had signed up for our childbirth classes yet. “We don’t need that crap,” I said, “and especially not for two hundred dollars.” “Two hundred dollars?!” she said. “Why, in my day…” and thus began another walk down memory lane that ended with my being born, my mom saying, “Look! It’s a real baby!” and my dad saying, “Huh? Uh-huh. Lots of hair.” I don’t remember what I said but I imagine there were histrionics.

Truth be told, whether or not I would take a childbirth class was never about the money. (Although don’t you find it’s getting increasingly easy to fall back on the “it’s too expensive” excuse for anything and everything in this age of crashing markets and an economy receding faster than Michael Bolton’s hairline? Simply substitute “I don’t want to” with “I can’t afford it” and voila, you are excused!) What it really comes down to, though, is that I think childbirth classes would be, for us, a waste of time.
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