"When all we wanted was the dream / to have and to hold / that precious little thing / like every generation yields /the newborn hope unjaded by the years"
So today is the baby's due date. The back pains and INTENSE Braxton-Hicks contractions began at 5 AM, but there wasn't a discernible pattern then and there still isn't one now, more than 12 hours later. I went in for my weekly checkup this afternoon and the midwife says everything is going fine and I should be delivering soon. Not soon enough, sister!
To distract myself from the pain and achiness this morning, I cleaned the kitchen thoroughly. You could lick those counters in a totally R-rated way; they're that spotless. Then I made myself some tea and breakfast and booted up the interwebs.
My "How your baby is developing" email of the week said: "Congratulations on your newborn!"
Dear babycenter.ca: FUCK YOU.
Dear Maricel, Ling, Betsy, and every other woman I may have called during essentially her tenth month of pregnancy "just to check in and see if you've given birth yet": I AM SO SORRY.
Dear anyone who is thinking of calling me just to check in and see if I've given birth yet: PLEASE DON'T.
I really appreciate your concern and your good thoughts and wishes, but I'm SUPER cranky about being in pain and having to wait for my body to do something about it. I don't want you to call and catch me in a foul mood. You don't want to call and catch me in a foul mood. Seriously, if I'm in a foul enough mood, I could open one or more of my nine mouths and sing us all into the End Times. I don't want that on my conscience and neither do you.
And so we wait.
"Wait" by Sarah McLachlan