I can admit when I’m wrong. I can admit when I’m totally off and when maybe I don’t know everything in the world. Thank God I don’t have to do this very often. But alas, now I do.
So maybe my dates weren’t exactly on point for this pregnancy. Maybe my doctor who went to medical school and has been practicing for years and years was actually correct when she moved my due date back a week and a couple days. I mean, maybe my due date really is December 7th and wasn’t yesterday…because I’m definitely still pregnant.
You guys, I was SURE I was going to have her before this weekend was over. 100% sure. I probably would have bet a lot of money on it if someone asked to bet me. I’m really glad no one was interested in betting on when I would give birth.
I look like this now, at exactly 39 weeks pregnant:
(by the way, all these pictures are from my phone because my camera is packed and I don’t want to have to get it out and recharge it because…I’m lazy.)
My shirts are actually not fitting me now. Those pants? I’m pretty sure they are meant to be lounge pants but they have the most incredibly giving fabric around the tummy that I rocked them all day long.
I’ve been having contractions every single day. Not just braxton hicks (the kind that are kind of practice contractions but don’t really dilate you or mean you’re in labor) but actual contractions. The kind that hurt. And if I go to my appointment tomorrow and I’m still at a “loose 1, basically 2” cm dilated, I will cry. I will cry right to my doctor and hope she takes pity on me and says, “Oh, sweetheart, you deserve a break. Scootch on up here and let me break your water.” And I’ll scoot up on that table and she’ll go in and break my water and we’ll have a baby tomorrow.
That won’t happen.
Instead, I’ll probably be doing a lot of what I’ve been doing lately. Which is basically not giving a damn what happens in my home. Ahem, take a look:
Jamie ate 3 cupcakes for breakfast on Friday.
Charlotte wore princess slippers to Costco. I didn’t even try to say no.
We went to storage to get Christmas decor and the kids found a box full of things from when I was a kid. Apparently I hoarded lipstick because there was a box full of them. We’re talking…close to 20 years old. What’s happening in this picture is that Maria is applying it to Charlotte’s tiny 3 year old lips. Before we head out for errands. Because I don’t care anymore.
But good things have happened, too. Things that wouldn’t have gotten done if Franci came early. Things like putting Christmas lights up.
Having a girls date with Alice and getting pedicures. I don’t think we’ve ever had a date with just the 2 of us.
Decorating cookies and being extremely proud of them.
Putting ornaments on the tree without even getting cranky. Yes, that actually happened.
And I’m not sure what has gotten into me, but I didn’t even care when Dan left Saturday morning to shoot guns with pals. In fact, I put on my fun mommy pants and took all the kids to breakfast solo.
Sure, I might have told them not to talk to me until we get to our table. And I might have just ordered the same thing for all of them without asking and then denied them juice while I drank a giant glass myself, but the point is I took them out to breakfast.
I’m just incredible.
I’ll work on my due date estimation skills and then I’ll be incredibly amazingly fabulous.