I am 37 weeks today. Full-term. She could come any time and it wouldn’t be a problem.
I don’t dare call anyone in my family for fear they will be disappointed to find out I’m not announcing the birth of my child.
I am trying not to make too much of the Braxton-Hicks contractions that I’ve been having several times an hour for at least a week. (Though I secretly enjoy every single one of them.)
I am beginning to realize that there will be life beyond the birth, and that my attention will need to shift to some important things that I’ve been neglecting as I have focused on my ever-disappearing navel.
But for the moment, I am savoring these last few weeks (days? – I shouldn’t get my hopes up).
Yesterday, I made a cake. A three-layer pink cake tinted with pureed strawberries. The layers are in the freezer, awaiting an actual birthday girl to celebrate.
Today the boys and I went to the library. I checked out Bossypants by Tina Fey, which I plan to read to help me relax and laugh through labor. Yes, I plan to laugh this baby out of my body. Micah read The Areas of My Expertise by John Hodgman to me while I was laboring with Manchild, and it was nice to have something to take my mind off the contractions.
Tomorrow I am getting some maternity photos taken, which I’ve never had done before and which I’m looking forward to.
And after that . . . who knows?
I do know that eventually this pregnancy/baby will not be the only thing I can think about or write about or talk about. Eventually I will remember that there used to be other things I did with my life before I got so big and tired that getting off the couch was a major accomplishment. Eventually . . . and until then . . . I’m ticking away.