Only 8 more centimeters and it's time to push

"I hope you don't mind if I say this, but you look ready to go," said my co-worker the other day. Her happy tone made it entirely different from the chattery chickens in the gym telling me I "look.....ready to pop." Thanks, ladies. Go cluck elsewhere and leave me alone to lift weights. This morning my neighbor asked me, but when exactly? Do they know when? No, they don't know. It's one of life's great mysteries. But it's true that I'm anxious for it to happen...not that it has to happen today, but just to know that I could hold my healthy baby by Christmas would make me seriously happy. My wise OB made more of a prediction than I would have expected, as I lay back on the table this table this morning. Two centimeters dialated and a week from my due date. "I don't know, but I would guess within the next 10-12 days." I looked at the calendar. By the 29th? That sounds great. "But I don't know," she repeated. I know, I know. And I didn't even ask her for a prediction.

With a full-term baby living inside of me, everyone looks like someone's kid. The Cape Teen in a terrible Herald headline? Someone's kid. That young woman in the wheelchair in the cafe? Someone's kid. The old vets talking trash about Bush? Someone's kids. It's strange. Someone's kid is going to come out of me, and whoever it is (though I feel like I already know), it's going to be my responsibility. My OB said, "It's like you have a very important meeting, but you have no idea when it's going to happen."

She also said, "You can't think your way into labor."

And, "All you have to do, for this to happen, is get out of the way."

This morning I woke up in the dark, reached through the covers, and held the hand of my sweetie. Soon it will be winter, with longer days, drives to Western MA in the snow, and life with our baby.