Practically the minute you hit 37 weeks it seems like labor can't come soon enough. Your baby is officially "fully" cooked, you're a mere three weeks away from your due date and as far as you can tell everything is pointing towards you meeting your baby really, really soon.
And then a few weeks go by and you STILL haven't had that baby. And everyone keeps asking you if you've had the baby yet, how close you are, when you'll be induced or even why you haven't.
Don't forget the unsolicited advice. The things about walking for miles on miles, drinking witch doctor teas and shoving oils and all sorts of other things up your lady parts. Oh and don't forget to eat pineapple, drink castor oil and inhale spicy food. I'm all for tips, particularly when I ask for them, but it seems like everyone under the sun has become more informed about what's going to put me into labor than my doctors.
It's easy to get wrapped up in the excitement. Between the aches, pains and anticipation of meeting your new baby, it's easy to forget about all the other things that come along with having a new baby. The new routine. The uprooted lifestyle. The change in pace. The lack of pace. The constant change. The breastfeeding. The no sleep. The guilt. The exhaustion. The diapers. The doctors appointments. The healing. The torn up body. The emotions.
Oh, the emotions.
So for as excited as I am to meet our new addition, I think I'm going to quit wishing on every last star that he'll get here by Christmas. He'll come when he's ready and when he does it will be right.
Until then, I'm going to spend these last few moments, days, weeks as a mother of just one darling, smart, challenging, beautiful little girl. I'm going to cherish what's left of our life as a family of three, the way I should have been. There are still five things that I have on my to-do list, before I'll feel like I've fairly given every last piece of me as a mother of one to my daughter.
For starters, I want to go to brunch, dinner, lunch, whatever one more time as a family of three. I want to go and let Pearyn pick whatever her heart desires of the menu, I want to parade her around and enjoy the peace of being able to go out to eat with one screaming, tantrum-throwing child instead of two.
And once we've done that, I want to go somewhere completely and utterly sporadic. Just because we can. I want to go somewhere without a big, bulky diaper bag filled with goops and creams, I want to be able to throw a few necessities in my purse and just go somewhere, last minute, without a plan, because when you have a toddler, you can get away with those kinds of things.
I want to sleep in the big, giant king-sized bed in our bedroom and snuggle with our little girl all night long. I want to fall asleep with half my body going numb and in a puddle of drool because she can't go to sleep without cuddling. I want to wake up to her sweet little face telling me good morning and that it's light outside, which means it's time to play.
And because that's not good enough, I want one more day to dedicate to her. It doesn't matter what we do, whether we watch the same four Scooby Doo reruns over and over again or she drives me bonkers playing and spilling water while I try to take a bath. I want her to put her hands on my stomach and tell me that when Baby B gets here, she'll teach him how to crawl and she'll changes his poopy diapers. I want her to grab her hand away quickly and giggle that he kicked her, only to respond by pinching my stomach and telling me that she just got his "biscuit."
I need more time to let her know that even though it's just been us these last few years, having a sibling isn't going to take away from any and every thing. It will be different, but that doesn't mean it will be bad. And one day, she might even thank us for bringing a new kind of love into her life.
Most of all though, I need enough time for me to know that, for me to be OK with that.