Well, I’m 3 days away from my estimated due date, i.e., feeling like I’m watching grass grow as I anticipate *something* to happen.
It’s hard to sit in restaurant booths, my belly itches like crazy, and waking up at 2 or 3 AM every morning to pee has become part of my daily routine.
The crib bedding and clothes have been washed, and the carseat is in place. All we need is a little body to occupy them.
Since I’ve been on leave for nearly 2 weeks now (and — at present time — knowing I won’t really have a job to go back to), the waiting is killing me.
I fear going more than a mile away from our place in case something happens. Even though I can rest assured that I can call my doula and my husband, and have been reassured that real life labor is nothing like TV/movie labor, the unknown is pretty damn scary!
And so all I can do is try to keep myself busy, and wait… and wait… and wait.
Then there is that part of me that will miss feeling the little kicks and rolling motions, the anticipation of wondering what this little person will look like and life with just my husband and me.
For now, all I can do is hope and pray that this little creature I’ve been baking is healthy. When I look back on the few months of when I was pregnant (and didn’t know it), I already feel like a failure as a parent! So, to my little cookie, please enter this world happy and healthy. Please have all your fingers and toes, eyes that see, ears that hear, and a mouth that makes sound.
I cannot wait to meet you!