Still here, still pregnant. When I can get out of my head and its insane paranoia, I'm actually in a pretty good place. As anxious as I am to meet this little girl, I'm also well aware that I have no more than two weeks left to enjoy being pregnant, and then this phase of my life will be over. We won't do IVF again to have a third child (we're lucky enough to get two!), and our chances of conceiving naturally are slim to none. So this is it, my last days of being pregnant, ever. I'm choosing to spend my non-paranoid moments relishing the feeling of the baby rolling around inside of me and enjoying the anticipation that comes with having no idea who this kid will be.
This doesn't mean, of course, that I'm not impatient. We were so spoiled by M's surprise arrival two weeks early -- we thought she'd be born way closer to her due date, so the idea of going into labor at 37.5 weeks never even crossed our minds. This time around, of course, we expected to have given birth by now, so both The Boy and I are getting twitchy with anticipation. Will today be the day? Tomorrow? How will it happen? How will I know if I'm really in labor (assuming I don't get that telltale gush of water this time). It's both exciting and frustrating.
So that's it from here. We're in a holding pattern, waiting for something to happen while trying to live in the moment. I'll keep y'all posted.