Monday, March 19, 2012

Boom! Fire! I'm done.

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About two weeks to go until my due date.  Penny was born ten days early.  I know these patterns don't hold, but it's messing with my mind.  I keep thinking each day is THE day.  Then it turns out not to be THE day.  Which is probably for the best.  I still have some last minute things to cover with the students in my Creative Nonfiction class, and two graduate students who would really like to defend their Master's portfolios next week.

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!
This is the point when you are officially, terribly, anxiously done.  I don't know where the feeling comes from, except that yep, I'm totally there.

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.
I want to carry this kid in my arms, not under my ribs.  So I'm calling it like Babe Ruth, pointing my proverbial bat at the sweet spot and giving Mary-Blair a deadline.  (What the heck, all my students are on deadline, why not my children?)

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.

4 comments:

  1. March 29 , just to keep the number going, Mom

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  2. Hubby's birthday is on Friday (23), and my mom's is on Monday (26), so my vote is for either one. =)

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  3. I always get these things wrong. Always. March 29.

    Also, he is the sweetest.

    Also, I didn't know how much I super loved the name Mary-Blair until I read it in this post, and then my heart exploded with love for it.

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