...I had another Monday at work. A long, painful Monday full of people saying "didn't expect to see you here today" "when are you due" "you look so uncomfortable" "I did ____ to make the baby come." Over and over and over. And I do my best to be polite because they don't know how annoying they are or how often I hear the same thing in a day. It's getting painful. Worse than the lower back aches and the hip joints.
...I ate Dominoes pizza and cinnamon sticks.
...I watched Papa Clay spray paint a bookcase and touch up the paint on the front door.
...I weeded the garden. Yep, on my hands and knees. I even got sweaty. I thought for sure this would hurry things along. It didn't.
And today I went to work again, thinking (HOPING) that you would show up right on your due date. That you would be one of those 5% of babies born on the day that has been circled on their mommies' calendars for six months. Really, I sort of believed you would be that baby, that the date I've had in my head all this time--6-22-10--would be the one date I'd have to remember for the rest of my life, the date I'd have to write down as I filled out your baby book and your kindergarten registration and your junior high hockey participation form (I threw that last one in for your dad). But unless you show up soon and with a vengeance, I don't see this happening. I don't see myself being a mommy in 4 1/2 hours. (Though if that's what you're planning, don't feel like you need to change your plans for me.) Instead, it's another night of waiting and wondering just when you'll decide to show up. Thankfully, I have a doc appointment set up for tomorrow morning. Hopefully, she'll be able to give me a little more insight.
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