Well, I'm two days away from my due date and still no sign of baby. I know labor can start at any minute, but it feels like he will never come out. I guess I have made him too comfortable a home in the safety of my belly.
I've had two glorious weeks off work to prepare for his arrival. Two weeks of nesting, naps and daydreaming about what he will look like, how he will feel in my arms, how different our lives will be once he's here. It still feels like a fantasy...
A week and a half ago I experienced symptoms that made me think he would be here early. So mom and sister hopped in the car and headed out here, making sure to not miss his birth. While I feel bad that they rushed out here with an urgency that apparently was unfounded, I've been thankful for their company, their help and just to have them here with me during this time. There's nothing like the support and camaraderie of your people.
The boys, especially our little one, has become impatient with the baby (as we all have). Everyday he talks to my belly multiple times, imploring his brother to "Come out!" He has all kinds of ideas as to why he hasn't come out yet. "Is he sleeping mom?" "Maybe he's putting he clothes on." "Is he going to stay in there forever?" "Mom, when the baby comes out I'm going to watch him play, and sleep and eat."
We are all eagerly awaiting his arrival...
As for me, my feet are unrecognizable. I can barely squeeze them into flip flops anymore and shoelaces have to be opened far and wide in order to get my foot into my tennis shoes. I've never had rolls on the tops of my feet before; it's a feeling I will be happy to not have anymore once baby arrives. I'm still doing more than maybe I should (and certainly more than Rocky wants me to do), but I can't just sit around all day. There's still laundry to be washed, meals to be made, cleaning to get done. Plus, it keeps my mind off the longing of wishing this labor thing would commence already.
Rocky has been amazing, as usual. Working around the clock at his normal 9 to 5, coming home and helping with dinner and homework, then working on the house so that things are in better condition for when baby gets here. I think these are also the way he distracts himself from the waiting game. He wants to hold his son so bad. For 10 months I've been holding him in my own way; Rocky has been ready, and is pining to hold his baby in his arms.
We all continue along, in our own ways, to kill the time between now and a new day.
I'm trying to take the advice of my mama friends. "Enjoy this time!" "Sleep! Eat! Rest! Watch TV!" "Everything is going to change; it's going to get harder. Savor these last few days." I'll admit it's hard to do. I feel ready. I've felt ready. We've wanted this for years. Plus, my body is just done. Between the swelling and the carpal tunnel I've developed in my right hand, things are getting fairly uncomfortable.
I know he's worth every ache, pain and discomfort. I know that he's the answer to so many prayers. I know that this time won't last forever; he's coming soon.
And we wait, with hopeful expectation, with arms outstretched to hold him.
We wait for our little prince to make his entrance, to make even more whole a family who has wanted him since before time.
Come, sweet baby. The whole world is waiting for you.
