Well baby, we made it! You and I have spent the last 40 weeks together. It's been swell, really it has. Sure, I've popped more Tums than a fat man eating Mexican food, and probably gained more weight than him too. Yup, I've had my sick days and there was that stretch where I couldn't stand to touch raw meat. But baby, we made it through!
I've let you push my belly out and out and out to the point of bursting. I've let you take over the space that was formerly occupied by my bladder. I've allowed you the privilege of sleeping comfy while Mommy tries every angle to not tip over, not have limbs fall asleep, not kill my back and still manage to get some rest.
But baby? It's time to leave. Your time is up. Please vacate the premises, as swiftly and painlessly as possible. I'm ready to have you in my arms, not in my belly. And I'm especially ready for you to be delivered by one of our kind midwives, not a stranger from Abbotsford. Out baby, out.
In all seriousness, I still feel pretty good. I've been blessed with a great pregnancy, baby is on all accounts doing wonderfully and I'm thankful to have this new life moving inside my belly. But I am getting nervous as Cheryl and Joy prepare to leave on the 26th. It might seem like a long ways away, but it makes me anxious thinking about it. My ideal would be to deliver on Monday or Tuesday as that's when Joy and then Cheryl are on call for deliveries. But I am trusting in God's timing and praying that whatever happens, I don't let it worry me and just focus on the end result: meeting our baby and bringing him or her home into our lives.
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