That is the responsible, logical part of me chiming in.
The whiny, vent-y part of me is tired. Hates that I can't turn in bed without help. Wants to wear her old jeans again. Is so done with doctor's appointments.
I remember this feeling from last time. One minute, you're in no hurry to get the baby out. She's fine where she is, you tell yourself. Once she's here, there will be no more sleep for YEARS. You put up with the swollen ankles happily. Then, it's like a light switch is flipped. Or more like someone pushes down on the plunger of one of those old-timey TNT detonators:
|Boom! Fire! Let's get to 'sploding!|
Six years ago, about four days before Penny was born, I wrote a similar entry. Click for a pic of a younger, and also smaller-bellied me.
This is me a few days ago. I swear I'm even BIGGER today:
|37 weeks pregnant and walking around the Montgomery Zoo with lots of children. Amazing feats of pregnancy daring, y'all.|
My prediction: next Tuesday, kid, March 27th, you and I have meeting.
We'll see. This is the kind of thing that makes fate laugh out loud.
|Fate is a kitten laughing hysterically at me.|
This is all to say I am ready to meet this baby. Orlando is too, if his all-day texts are an indication: Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?
Rest easy, everyone. I am SO okay (and isn't he the sweetest?).
In the meantime, let's see who can call the date in the comments. Official due date is April 5th. Take your best guess.