39 Weeks and Counting

My turn to write.

And yes, this will probably be about pregnancy as well. But it's okay, because we are nearing our end. Which means that I will probably have to change the name of my blog once again. But we'll get to that at a later date.

I cannot believe how close to the end we are here. I imagined I would be 39+ weeks pregnant at some point, but to actually be this close to delivering a baby....wow! Talk about mixed emotions.

Today I was talking to Baby Daddy (he loves it when I call him that) about having a baby next week. I said "What are you going to do?" And his prompt reply was "Freak out!"
And that pretty much sums up my feelings at this point. I'm freaking out a little. Or a lot.

I've held babies before, and I've cared for little ones. I'm not new here. But I always gave them back. Even when I would babysit my brother over night, I was still able to give him back to my mom the next day. The sole responsibility was never on me. But this little girl growing (please Lord, let her have stopped growing by now!) inside of me is MINE. There's no giving her back. When she starts crying and being fussy, I'm the one people will give her to. Well, of course there is her dad too. But she is our responsibility.
I've never been responsible like this before, and it's a bit freaky.

Of course, my freak out moments are often overpowered by my overwhelming joy and excitement. Or...rather by my impatience and uncomfortable-ness. I'd much rather be freaked out with a baby in my arms, then hot and miserable and uncomfortable with a baby jabbing at my ribs.
I want her here. I want her snuggled in my arms, and I want my lips pressed to her chubby little cheeks. I want to hold my sweet baby girl, rock her, sing to her and just love on her. I'm ready to meet her, and look in those beautiful eyes, and see that perfect face. I want to touch those hands and feet and elbows and knees that have been poking and jabbing at me all these months.

I want to stop imagining what it will be like and actually be living in that moment.

Jaelyn is due in 6 days. Of course, I'm not expecting her to come on time. I'm biding my time until the 25th. After that, I think I will start going a little crazy. But I know that, if she's anything like her mom and dad, this little chica is going to be late.

And so I will continue to cringe when her tiny butt gets lodged under my rib, and I will grimace in the night as I attempt to "roll" over in bed. And I will continue to complain about my cankles (except when I'm shaving!), gripe about my inability to move around like a normal functioning member of society, and to also weep at the silliest things (like seeing how old Danny Glover has gotten when I watched a recent episode of Psych) in a moments notice. I will do all of these things in eager anticipation for the newest member of the Kemp household.

(And all of a sudden I am craving a baked potato with sour cream!)