I am still pregnant. At 36 weeks and 4 days, this is not necessarily shocking. But it is all I am able to think about. I haven't written anything in two weeks for this very reason. Because I am still pregnant. I keep waiting for something to happen. I expect my water to break any minute now. Or wake up in the middle of the night with contractions five minutes apart, like I did with Kai. Granted, that was on his due date. But it doesn't matter. The wait is killing me.
I know it is irrational. I know the baby will be born sometimes in the next few weeks. Yet I still feel like I am about to miss the train. I feel like the next time I go see my doctor, she will say: "Oops, sorry, you missed it! Now you have to wait another nine months. Seriously, how did you manage to miss it?" I can't wait another nine months!
I have also started to feel a strong aversion to what's about to come. Meaning birth and getting used to the life with a new baby. But mainly birth. There are so many things that can go wrong. This is not to say that I am obsessing about the worst case scenarios and dreading the labor. This is more of a feeling one gets when tax season comes around. You just really don't want to deal with it. You know you have to, you know in the end you might even gain something, but you still find a million excuses for why not to start with those horrible forms just yet.
I feel like I am standing at the edge of the pool and I know the water is really cold and the best thing to do is to just jump in and be done with it. But there is no pool to jump into, at least not right this moment.
So I have to keep waiting. I can't concentrate on anything, especially writing. Instead, I have been buried in A Game of Thrones. Book version, not the TV version. I suppose life could be much worse than me doing nothing but reading A Game of Thrones. Still, this situation is driving me crazy. Where is the damn stork??
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