Today is my due date. 9:38 pm, I don't think she's gonna be on time. This, of course, is not only typical of first pregnancies, but also typical of me, especially pre-Scott. (My sense of time is... not so good.)
It's been 3 weeks of false alarms, achiness, cramps, general discomfort. And trying to squeeze in a full night's sleep, even in chunks of 2-3 hours, has been "challenging". Still, I'm torn between wanting her out RIGHT NOW, and being a bit afraid of actual labor and even more scared of becoming (gulp) a MOM. The reality is rather... sobering. The last week I've been thinking, "Uh... what?" and having moments of pause. Pre- and early-pregnancy, I figured that I was smart enough and emotionally capable of figuring things out, y'know, as they came up. Even if I didn't know how to be a mom, back then, I figured I would figure it out. Now that that time is practically upon me, I've forgotten the second half of my logic. Me? A mom? Ridiculous! Or if not ridiculous, crazy! Or if not crazy, then... inconceivable!
I suppose it's all opening night jitters. (And to extend the analogy, does she have stage fright?) I'll figure it out. Right? And it's not like I have to know everything right away. I won't need to know this week how to teach her to be a strong, independent thinking woman who can express herself and her emotions. Not right away. Right?
I'm ready to trade in scattered, awkward, uncomfortable sleep for more comfortable yet almost-nonexistent sleep,
Being able to feel her every move with seeing her every move,
Hours of knitting time without being able to knit sweaters with almost no knitting time and a less round belly,
And the worries and fears of labor and becoming a mom with the worries and fears inherent in being a mom.
I'm ready, little goober. Are you?