In six weeks or less I will be a parent, a mother. I'll finally be holding this little baby in my arms. I'll finally know if its a boy or a girl.
In three weeks I'll be considered full-term. I could really go anytime after that, and the baby would have very little health problems, if any. Doctor's only concern is lung development (not specifically for our baby, just in general lungs take the longest to develop).
Its a little hard to come to terms with the fact that pretty soon we'll actually be using all the new "stuff" in our house. We have constant reminders that I'm pregnant (I mean, besides my emotional meltdowns and constant complaining). There's a pack n play in our living room, a bassinet in our bedroom, baby clothes have all been washed and folded and organized (and reorganized, and reorganized). There's a whole shelf of baby bottles and breast milk storage containers in a cupboard in the kitchen, and baby books on the bookshelf. Some of this stuff has been here for a while, some of it we've grown used to seeing. But its all finally becoming real, like everything is slowly coming into focus.
I could, theoretically, have a baby any day now. God willing, it will wait at least four more weeks. I'm so done being pregnant, done being kicked in the ribs and jabbed in the sides and punched in the hoo-ha. I'm finished with the back pain, painful Braxton Hicks, and the constant itching. There are so many symptoms that just drive me nuts on a day-to-day basis, that I can't even list them all here. But as tired as I am of all of this, I'm still trying to enjoy it. I know that pretty soon it won't just be Matthew and I (and our two amazing dogs). Everything will change, our lifestyle will be turned upside-down. And as much as my body wants this baby out, I want it to be as healthy as humanly possible before it enters this world. I refuse to be selfish. I want to be a good mom. If that means suffering all forty long weeks, then so be it.
Did I mention I'm going to be a mom?
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