Today I began the longest 3 weeks in any pregnant woman's life - let me explain:
I've finally reached the moment when the baby can now safely make an appearance in the world, relieving my body from it's burdensome baggage. I fondly look forward to nights of comfortable slumber on my stomach and being able to pick up something off the floor without having to contort my body to do it. Or even to just being able to trim my toenails without having to hold my breath while leveraging my foot against something solid so it doesn't fly back out of reach.
Oh wait - I still won't get to do those things. I'll have a baby to take care of! Please stay in there for a few more weeks!
And this is why time ticks by ever so slowly. Really I want this baby out of me - but really I'm not ready to take on another one, am I? The cycle of hoping for labor and hoping for a contraction free day repeats over and over and over and over - at least 10 times a second. I think my brain just automatically does it for me now, so I can think about other things, too. Or maybe that's just natural female multitasking kicking in.
So I'm finally reaching the end of this pregnancy and I don't know whether to panic or rejoice, but I know that it will all work out and that once I see that little face I won't have a second thought about the panic - at least until I get home.
I really wanted to post a picture of my in all my pregnant glory, but it was a rainy (it's not always sunny skies here) all day and I really don't need anyone seeing the inside of my house - even if only in the background of a picture. So maybe I'll get someone to take a picture tomorrow. If I remember.... If I'm not consumed by thought of labor vs. another day of pregnancy.....