It's finally here.

It's been 40 weeks.  280 days.  6,720 hours.  403,200 minutes.  Or 24,192,000 seconds.

Yea...that's the human gestational period. 

So tell me again that pregnancy is so short. 

And to think, after today, my little man is "past due".

I'm trying to remember that it's okay that he's in there.  He's safe.  He's still growing.  He's still moving.  He's fine.  And when he comes out, that's when I have to worry.  It's a big scary world.  Full of all the things that he's sheltered from inside of me.  I can say that until I'm blue in the face, but it doesn't matter.  I want him HERE.  Again, it's been 40 weeks.  I think he's done.

I'm waiting for my doctor's appointment later today.  I'm hoping that the doctor will give me good news.  That either my "never changing" cervix is finally cooperating...or that they will tell me a time to be at the hospital.  And if it's the latter...I hope its soon.

I have known a few women who were pregnant and due around the same time as me.  (4 to be exact...5 including me.)  Well...everyone else had their babies.  My friend Megan had her twins last night.  And everyone else had their babies weeks ago.  And here I am.  Still bloated, fat, swollen, miserable, and pregnant.  Megan was even due after me...which makes me even more sad.

But again:  I'm going to try to stay positive.  There's a reason why he's still in there.  And I won't be pregnant forever.  I just gotta remember that.

I should probably do something to occupy my mind.  But eventually I'll wander into the baby's room and wonder when he's going to come.  And probably start to cry because my hormones are all over the place.

Until Next Time (when, hopefully I'll have some good news)
~MommyToBee