When I’m trying to go back to sleep at night after one of my many trips to the loo or because I’ve been woken up by thirst, insane hunger or someone apparently trying to break out of the belly through the side of it instead of his proper route, I come up with all kinds of wonderful things to blog about.
But now I’m awake and people are already calling me to see if I’m still pregnant or if I’m in the hospital with my baby boy. And husband. And midwife.
Obviously, I’m sitting here in front of my computer, still very much pregnant and a little cranky. Without anything profound or fluid to say.
So, if you know my phone number, don’t call me. I’ll let you know, one way or another, when the little dude decides to finally arrive. Unless you actually want to do something useful – like go out to lunch with me or see a movie or talk about something OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT I’M PAST MY DUE DATE and still very much preggers. OK? I’m very much aware of my condition, even as I wake up and put my positive face on it, that today is Duncan’s birthday (maybe, it is, after all. If I keep saying that, one of these days I’m bound to be right). 🙂
It’s an honor that people in my life care (and I don’t mean that sarcastically at all). And I know I’ve done the same thing to other pregnant people (and I hereby publically apologize). I just so don’t want to talk on the phone about whether I’m having any “signs” or not. And I really, really hate the fact that I was wrong about my prediction that he’d come early. 😉