i'm in the middle of the 37th week so, at this point, the pregnancy is to term. this means that, if it's time for him to come, it's time. we're all packed and i'm still adding things to my already gigantic bag; another set of pajamas here, a spare set of headphones there, etc.
i haven't made the l&d nurses any treats yet -- we're too afraid that we'll eat them waiting. i should go and ensure i have at least the supplies handy to whip up a big batch of roma bark. good god, people. what chemist knew that butter, brown sugar, dark chocolate, and saltines would yield crack cocaine? the recipe belongs to my mother-in-law [and frequent blog commenter] and was a staple during my sister's pregnancy. i think i may expound on this recipe with a twist reminiscent of ben & jerry's chubby hubby ice cream. i'll call it "chubby roma bark."
so, i'm starting to get people calling all the time:
did you have that baby yet?
how are you?
are you glad it's almost over?
are you feeling fat and miserable, you poor thing?
ya just can't knock tha love, but at the same time, i am half-tempted to leave a daily progress report on all voicemails:
good morning [ahem]. today is 37-point-two and status has not changed. experiencing normal but not excessive braxton-hicks surges as was reported at 34-point-five midwife appointment. movement is excellent to the point of being uncomfortable -- preparing for house littered with grass-stained soccer cleats and/or stinky tap oxfords. occasional mild cervical jabbing sensation and scant expression of colostrum. appointment with fourth midwife scheduled for 37-point-four at 13:45 hours. thank you for calling. goodbye.
truly, i'm not frantic for it to be over. of course, i'm excited for him to arrive, but i'm really trying to appreciate this rare state of being for what it is. i have my son inside my body. he wakes up with me in the morning and i can feel him stretch his limbs out, ready to live out yet another day in his warm, inverted world.
if anything, i'm just bored of the clothes.