In the Home Stretch

So it's official. I am 37 weeks pregnant which is considered full term. Which means Anya could literally make her arrival any day. It could be tomorrow. Or it could be two weeks from now. Or it could be her due date. Or, heaven forbid, it could be two weeks past her due date. (Please. God. No.) It's all become a huge waiting game now. I have an appointment with the OBGYN on Friday to check for dilation and all that jazz, but considering absolutely nothing was happening in that department last Friday, I'm not expecting anything to have changed yet. Not to mention I have about a million other appointments I'd like to take care of this week and next before this thing goes down. Like get my last haircut before God knows when between birthing a baby and moving 8 hours away. And get an eye exam before I run out of contacts; not to mention I didn't replace my eyeglass lenses after last year's exam so I can't see anything when I wear them making it a pointless endeavor. I want new frames anyway. I'm over the pink kids' glasses. I'm feeling the black rimmed secretary look. And I can get my lenses replaced all in one go before I head to the land of finding entirely new doctors for each and every thing under the sun next month.

And before I know it I will be searching Google for the secrets of how to lose belly fat overnight. Heh. But that's okay because I'm beginning to get really burned out on this whole puffy, acne covered face and protruding belly thing. I'm trying to enjoy it because I know it will be a few years (If I have anything to say about it that the powers that be don't throw back in my face and laugh at. We all know how that turned out this time.) before I get to experience pregnancy again. And I only get to experience it with Anya this one time. Once she's born, that's it. There's no going back. She'll be walking, talking, and heading off to school before I know it. So I don't want to regret wishing my last days of my pregnancy with her away. It's kind of nice having her all to myself. I only wish Ryan could have been here for more of it. The kicking and the birthing classes. Making fun of my lopsided belly because Anya likes to snuggle her butt into my left side and push it out at a strange angle. The good stuff. There is always next time, but I know next time is going to be a long wait for him after missing so much of this pregnancy. I feel badly for him in that regard. But I'm glad he'll be home in time to avoid missing most of her first months of life. He'll be able to enjoy her newborn-ness with me. And that's something to be grateful for. I'm just ready to have him home. October cannot come fast enough.