My obsessive nature is playing with dates to see which one sounds best. 5/10/12, 5/11,12, or 5/12/12. I am not willing to accept the possibility of it going beyond that. I have already decided I will stoop as low as castor oil and take matters into my own hands if I go more than a few days late. I can already check that life experience off and frankly ten days late was no picnic at all. There is something to savor with a few extra days. I'm going to get a manicure, frozen yogurt and maybe a massage if I'm still pregnant tomorrow. The downside is the physical discomfort right now. I have a shooting pain down my left leg every few steps, and sleep is a wrestling match between me, my body pillow and the wedge to hold my bump up. I cannot get comfortable, but if I think I will sleep when the baby gets here then I have suffered from a great deal of memory loss.
The worst part of the waiting is the build up of over-thinking. I am starting to worry about the birth, the hospital experience, the logistics of getting my daughter taken care of, and stupid things like remembering to bring what I need to the hospital. I am also now getting anxious to just see who has been inside me for the last nine months. Will he have hair? How much will he weigh? Will he look like my daughter or more like one of us? Will he latch on and take to nursing easily? Is he going to hurt me on the way out? All of these answers will come, that is what I have to remember right now. He is coming, no matter what. I just have to have a little faith that it will all go well. I want to hold this baby very soon but when exactly that will be is out of my hands. In the meantime, I will keep them massaged and manicured.
(Addendum: The conclusion of this story is that my nail polish is now chipped and my back is a bit achy because I have a baby boy safe at home... Stay tuned for the next post regarding his arrival!)