Today marks my 91st day of blogging for Baby K, and also the last day of double digits in the countdown. I keep alternating between overwhelming excitement and total curiosity for the what the next few weeks will hold. I can’t predict that baby will be here in exactly 10 days, nor do I have any major inclinations as to when, if not on April 30th, the little one will arrive. (Although I do have April 24th in the baby pool.) I can say with confidence, however, that it won’t be too much longer. How do I know this?
There are a few things, really, not the least of which is the fact that I no longer have a belly button. I have something that looks like the former shadow of a belly button, just below two other somethings that are hardly recognizable as anything but “not normal.” This is the part where my mom would have full license to enter an “I told you so” about my choice to get a piercing in my belly button ten years ago. In fact, I’ll do it for her. SHE TOLD ME SO. Clearly, I wasn’t contemplating pregnancy when I willingly jumped into the black leather chair on that fateful Labor Day Weekend–my first weekend away at college hundreds of miles from home. I removed the piercing four years ago when J and I got married, but alas, the telltale marks (now slats) are still serving as “baby is really getting there!” kind of indicators. How delightful, no?!
I also know that the peanut is on his or her way because a baby can only bake to perfection for so long, and we’re quickly approaching that landmark. As my doctor quipped the other day, “There’s a reason you have a due date.” Right. Yes. Of course. Admittedly, I do find a specific date on the calendar to be a little comical, seeing as they assigned said date the very first time I called the office to say I was pregnant (before any exams and such). I’m sure it’ll be close, because human gestation is kind of a standard 38-42 weeks and all, but even if we didn’t have a date to look forward to, I’d be predicting an impending arrival.
The last reason I know is because, well…I just know. Call it mother’s intuition or anything else of the sort, but I am absolutely certain that I can’t carry this child more than a few weeks more. Isn’t that brilliant?! All of the details are in place, and no matter how many times I vacuum or clean, the house will inevitably get dirty again–so I’d just assume that be the case while I’m learning to be a new momma, with a sweet little baby in tow.
I know I’m all cheeky about this tonight, but the truth is, I feel like I’ve arrived at a much better place–with a lot more patience for this process today than what I had a few days ago. Actually, it’s not really me who seems most anxious about when baby will come now, but rather the rest of the world around me. People just look uncomfortable looking at me. Or they ask things like, “When are you due?!” (exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark). I wish I thought more quickly on my feet as of late, because I’d just say things like, “Oh, not for another three months,” or “I’m sorry. Due for what?” or “Um, I just had a big lunch.” But that’s probably a tad mean, and maybe too much fun. And honestly, I delight in the fact that the answer is now, “10 days!” I could shout it from the rooftops.
So yep. We’re waiting. And baby is welcome to take his or her time. If I were in a warm, dark, cozy space, safe from the elements and the outside world, I might stay put a little longer, too. Then again, there’s a whole lot of amazing stuff out here, including a mom and a dad who can’t wait to love like we’ve never loved before. So there’s that to consider
cherishing these last numbered days as a vessel for our first born,