Monday, January 14, 2013


Normally, it’s the pregnant mommy who gets anxious for the little one to arrive.  She’s getting more uncomfortable by the day, and after 9 months of drastic body changes, mood swings, and discomfort, she’s just ready to be DONE.  In our house, it turns out daddy is the impatient one.  While I am getting progressively more uncomfortable (nothing quite like the feeling of 6.5 pounds worth of baby doing a headstand on your pelvis), I am also a planner.  I need to have everything completely ready to go before I’ll feel prepared for her arrival.  We still need to get a few stray items off our registry, then we’ll need to finish washing all her clothes and sheets, then we’ll need to pack just a few more things in our hospital bags (and yes, I said bags plural, because hyper-organized and compulsive over-packer me has a labor bag, a hospital stay bag for JD and I, and a bag for the baby’s stuff).  I should be good to go by next weekend; then she can arrive whenever she’d like.

JD, on the other hand, has reached his own stage of being done with the pregnancy.  Is it because I’ve been mean and hormonal?  No.  Is it because I’ve been whining a lot?  No.  Is it because I send him out in the middle of the night to satisfy random, uncontrollable cravings?  No.  Actually, he’s had it extremely easy, if I do say so myself.  JD is being impatient because that’s who he is.  When he wants something, he doesn’t like waiting around for it.

He decided he was ready to meet Loralai about 2 weeks ago and has been poking at my belly daily, asking her to come out.  I immediately interject, telling her that there's no rush, and she can come out whenever she decides she’s ready.  Not that any of this matters since she's on her own timetable.  

I'm now at 37.5 weeks, meaning in 3 weeks or less, we're going to have a baby.

Ready or not.

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