I went to the doctor Monday afternoon.
I was full, I was expectant, I was hoping to be a little closer to delivery than I had been the week before.
Week 37 was the full-term mark. The week I got the 'if you think you're going into labor speech' from my doctor. The week I felt so heavy and different that I hurried through getting my maternity leave approved, my home more prepared, and my desk mostly cleaned out except for essentials.
Objectively, I know this is fine. Babies are typically supposed to be born around 40 weeks. Just a week or two early out of the belly can leave a baby more susceptible to weight issues or ADD or something (or so I've read and partially forgotten). My baby and I are healthy and it's really not a problem if I'm so good at being pregnant that she hangs out for a little while longer while Cody and I enjoy time together and I maybe even get some days to myself when I go on maternity leave next week. She still has plenty of room to grow. I can even look like a good employee and work through the busiest week we have.
My maternity clothes are getting tight. I have trouble sleeping. I don't want to be at my largest and most tired and sit in an uncomfortable chair nonstop through my work's busiest week. I want a baby! I want to look at her face and give her a name and dress her in the adorable clothes everyone's given me! I want to learn to nurse and watch Cody hold her! I want to send The Very Important Text Message to friends and family! I want to bend over and still be able to breathe! I want to know if she needs her fingernails trimmed! I want her to start breathing!
(This baby has been alive for nearly a year and she doesn't breathe oxygen like a reasonable human being! Surely I can't be the only person completely disturbed by this.)
I know she'll be here eventually. And when she's here we're stuck with her forever. And that we'll look back on this time with fondness and nostalgia.
But I still want a baby!
But then I realized: she's not coming. Not while I'm in my work environment every day for a week and a half. The process moves along when a woman feels safe and secure and can focus on her Very Important Work......and I have been working through my lunch for the past 4 months. Actually, I've been eating 3 meals a day at this desk some days this week. I'm pretty sure my adrenal levels are not too helpful right now.
Plus, I realized the most important factor of all: this baby is not coming early because I am the epitome of a late bloomer.
Oh sure, I surprised my parents by showing up 3 weeks early. But that was after my mom's longest labor.
And once I got here, I didn't have teeth for 10 months.
I didn't eat solids until 13 months. (Mom wasn't one of those "I exclusively nurse for the first year!" proponents. It just worked out that way. Almost entirely because I hate change that much.)
I didn't walk until 15 months.
I didn't talk (very much) until some time after my second birthday.
When did you lose your front teeth? Because I was nearly seven and had to go to a dentist to finally get them pulled because my permanent teeth were coming in behind them.
Teenage milestones? [Redacted.]
Driver license? 17 years.
First kiss? Nearly 19.
At 23-going-on-24, I was the oldest of my siblings to get married. Laine had just turned 23 and Sara was 2 months away from 23 when they were married, and even though Levi is still single, he's just a little past 22. He could still beat my time.
And compared to my cousins...and some of my classmates from college.....and people I went to church with growing up.....and Arkansans (or even Americans in general! Whoa.), I'm showing up to this parenting game just a bit late.
Which is fine, the more I think about it.
Just like everything we've done so far has made this the perfect time for us to have a baby, a few days of vacation could certainly help me get ready to rest up a little and finish the last little bit of nesting I have left.
We could have a few more days of sleeping in, just the two of us. I want a haircut. I want a pedicure. I want to mess around on the Internet and play with arts and crafts on a weekday in my pajamas.
I want a nap.
So maybe I'm completely fine(ish) with the fact that we don't have a baby yet.
But I do have to say, if she were to come along and wreck all those plans we would be completely fine.
Hear that, sweet girl? Any time would be fine.
Really, any time at all.