So this baby is due in one week. Despite the fact that I've never gone into labor on my own and never even felt a real contraction without having an IV needle plumbed into my circulatory system, I'm still holding out vain hope that somehow this one will be different. Every little twinge of pain is no longer annoying, but exciting. Each time I pass any mirror I evaluate my figure. Does that baby look a little lower? And every morning when I wake up with nothing more exciting than the usual bathroom trips, I'm a little disappointed.
But really, I know that nothing is going to happen without medical intervention. Which is okay, because my mother-in-law doesn't show up until next Wednesday and we'd have to start calling in favors if something happens earlier than then (thanks to all of my back-up plan team. Watching four children isn't exactly a picnic!).
We've finished our move, having cleaned up the last pile of stuff without a home yesterday, and we have lots and lots and lots of ham left over from Easter dinner so that nobody will starve if I'm suddenly gone. And in the freezer I have hamburgers, bratwursts, and buns. So I think that everyone can get along in a pinch.
By this point in the pregnancy I'm finally patient with the wait because reality is starting to set in - a reality that is going to involve a lot of waking up in the middle of the night, changing diapers, leaking bodily fluids (from baby and me), and a physique that doesn't exactly bounce back in the way I thought it would.
However, I've spent nine months getting to this point and there's certainly no going back. It's almost baby time!