Eric keeps waking up and reassuring me that I’ll be ok, it will all be fine, etc. as he keeps finding me laying here staring at the ceiling.
My last day being pregnant. The last time I’ll experience another person living inside me, moving around.. tomorrow I’ll have a newborn to look after…my last night of unbroken sleep…if I could sleep… what in the world are we doing?
Eric seems ready, he’s not freaked out by our family growing by one, or it hasn’t fully sunk in yet.
I keep reliving the spinal being put into my back, and being stretched out while they cut me open. I’m so not ready for this.
It’s funny because so many people wished me well with, “she’ll probably come before her due date!” and such, but they don’t seem to understand that my body apparently doesn’t know what to do with babies. It’s blissfully unaware that it’s time to evict our little bundle and has no concept of what needs to be done.
It would be kind of neat to be sitting at home and suddenly have contractions or water break..but instead I have to schedule a baby and count down the hours until surgery.
One would think that would mean I’d be better prepared and not have her birthday on top of her sister’s, but I held out too long hoping my body would show signs of progress, and once it became clear that it was going nowhere all of the spots I’d be allowed to take (before due date) were gone. So she’s keeping her original due date. The first one, the one she was dated by in her first ultrasound, and the one she is scheduled to be delivered for. Who keeps the same exact due date for the entire pregnancy? Something tells me she’s going to be a punctual person. She’s going to say, “I’ll be there at 3” and she will always be there at 3.
I can’t wait to meet her. But I’m also terrified. Of delivering her, and of having a brand new person to learn again. But we’ll get through this scary part and it will all be magical soon.
Thank you Lord for letting me participate in this miracle, and may I be a good mother to her.