(Note: I had a mis-fire on publishing this post. So if you are using a blog reader you may have seen an earlier, unfinished version of this post. Sorry about that.)
I'm still here. I learned this week at my doctor's appointment that something like 90% of babies are born between 39 and 41 weeks. I also learned that if things don't happen naturally by 41 weeks, it'll be time to bring in some modern interventions (if not sooner). I'm hopeful that it won't come to that.
In the last week or so I've been becoming increasingly uncomfortable - mostly in the evenings and at night. It's all normal, but it's not been fun. My doctor confirmed, what I already knew, that the baby had, in fact, "dropped." I'm going to admit that I never really understood what people meant by that term. I can tell you now, that I absolutely understand, and I could give you all kinds of crass metaphors to describe it.
But the end is near, and I'm so excited to finally meet this little person who moves around a lot these days. I mean there's a fair amount of anxiety, but mostly we're ready. Bring it.
I have a bunch of little projects that need to be blogged, and I'll likely try to schedule those to post over the next couple of weeks.