The end is near! Or at least I keep thinking it is. I keep thinking this baby will come before her due date, but who knows? All of mine so far have been a little bit early, except for Lilah who was nine days past her due date (when I tell her the story of how I kept trying to convince her it was time to come out, she tells me, “Mommy, I was too cozy in there, and besides, I couldn’t come out until it was my birthday.”).
I confess I get butterflies every time I think about it – about the fact that in the not-too-distant future, the pains will start, letting me know this baby is ready to come out into the world.
There is a part of me that isn’t quite ready to be done being pregnant, believe it or not. All in all, this has been such a smooth, pleasant pregnancy, and knowing it’s definitely my last (I mean it!), well, I guess I want to hang onto it a little longer. And, yes, I admit that although labor doesn’t scare me, I’m not exactly looking forward to pushing this baby out – I remember all too well what that feels like. (Fortunately, that part has always gone very quickly for me.) And I’m worried about going into labor during the few days in early June when my midwife will be out of town; she’s got a backup midwife, but I want my midwife, the one who knows me, the one I – and my whole family – have a relationship with. And although I’m very excited about meeting this newest little member of our family, the postpartum period is usually a blue, weepy time for me, so I’m not looking forward to that.
But enough of the negative. It’ll all be fine in the end. Right?
Next week when my midwife comes over for my prenatal, she’ll be bringing the birth pool over! And various birthing things we’ll need to have on hand (you know, voodoo dolls, a cauldron, the Big Book of Spells, that sort of thing . . .) I need to get my ass in gear and wash baby clothes and start getting things ready for this little baby.