I'm not really excited (note the lack of exclamation point in the title of this blog post), because I've decided that this baby is not coming before 42 weeks, August 20th. However, I will be pleasantly (overwhelmingly) pleased if she decides to come earlier. (Please, please!)
What's crazy to me, though, is that my belly will just keep on getting bigger, my back will get more sore (apparently), my ankles will keep getting fatter. This doesn't at all stop, just because she's supposed to be fully cooked. Strange.
I really get it now about why very pregnant women don't like it when lots of folks get in touch to ask if they are still pregnant, have any news, popped yet, etc. I feel like I should at least be touched that they are thinking of me. But I'm not. Because I am forty weeks pregnant and hot and cranky and uncomfortable, dammit.
A friend gave me permission to not answer phone calls and voice mails for the duration, which I gratefully accepted.