Tomorrow we'll have one month and about 2 days left before Spampy's due date. My due date, Spampy's, ours... to whom does a due date actually belong? (correct usage of "whom"? Anybody, anybody?)
Suddenly this past week or so, everyone is my best friend. The check out girl at Trader Joe's. My dental hygienist. The bouncer at Sam's Club. Each had their own piece of wit or wisdom. The bouncer at Sam's had me particularly worried, because he was looking back and forth, from my receipt to the cart, over and over. Not one to be accused of shoplifting, especially because I was a Sam's Club newbie and wasn't sure of the whole process, I asked what the problem was... and the old man responds with a twinkle in his eye, "you're smuggling out a watermelon." Ahhhhhh, funnnnnnyyyy.
I think some of the best advice I've gotten was while I bought almonds and (heheheh) WINE (for the in-hospital, post-Spampers celebratory toast) at Trader Joe's today. Somehow we got onto the subject of how two of her kids came one week early, and two of hers had been one week late. (She had 5, she said, so was one just on time?) She told me that the early kids were fussy little screamers from the point of being born until they reached what would have been their due date.
INTERESTING!
She asked me how I felt. My standard answer (many seem to expect, "miserable!") is "great... so far so good." She told me that she always tells ladies who are eager to get things going, and get the baby "out", to just wait. Wait for your peace of mind, and wait for the development of the baby. I really liked hearing that, because I had said waaaay back that I wanted to go late. My plan was to let the little bun brown off as long as possible. (no Mocha Spampy pun intended)
Lots of people told me I'll not feel that way closer to my due date. But right now, I really like how everything is paced. I'm not eager to be done, but I'm not dreading the whole birthing process either. Pregnancy is perfectly paced and I'm not going to mess around with nature - nine months (or ten, depending how you count) is the perfect amount of time to adjust and adapt in a relatively peaceful way, without totally changing you life; it's time to stretch without bursting; it's time enough to grow comfortable in your skin, both physically and mentally, without plateauing along the way.
So on Friday I hit 36 weeks, and as we drive up to Kristine's wedding in Michigan I'll only be able to imagine where and what might be happening 2, 3 and 4 weeks from then. We have 2 birthing classes left (more on that later) and beyond that, the only activities planned for July are vague notions of nesting and lots of time in the pool.
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