I'm doing fine, fine.
Tomorrow is my due date.
I mean, I know due dates aren't much more than educated guesses and such, but wow, I just can't believe that when I open my eyes tomorrow, I will have been pregnant for FORTY WEEKS.
This is the thing when your first baby comes early: You just assume that your others will, too. Of course, Cub was sunny side-up, which aided in his early delivery, but, you know...I still assumed Naomi would come early, too. And, when she didn't, I was miserable and induced a week early (using the fact that I was Strep B Positive as a reason ... which was an understandable one, I guess). But maybe I've accepted the fact that each pregnancy is VERY different, so I'm not so much surprised that I've made it this far with my last.
Oddly enough, despite the aching back and hips, the groaning, the lack of coordination, the incoherent sentences, the puffy face and fingers (but I still have my ankles!) ... I'm really happy to have made it to this point. I've had grumpy days, too, but they've been the exception rather than the rule.
It's actually really, really exciting.
I hope she comes tomorrow. Shoot, I hope she comes tonight! If she doesn't, we've made arrangements that I feel comfortable with--I won't feel like I've rushed her out. It's a good feeling.
And ... I guess that's it.
Have a lovely day.