At the very latest, Henry will be here in one month and one day.
Honestly, I am dying. I am dying in anticipation. I am dying because I can barely move and all I want to do is tear apart our home and wipe down every surface and vacuum every piece of carpet, especially when my husband tells me I need to nap because I won't have much time to nap in the near future. He's right, but I'm still dying. I cannot wait to meet this baby. I cannot wait to count his fingers and toes and see whether he's bald or has a head full of hair. I cannot wait to look into his little eyes and say "Hi, Baby!" and I cannot wait to see his little fart-induced smile smirks and I cannot wait to nurse him. I am so ready to meet him and I am so ready to see Andrew interact with his new son and I am so ready to see Max tiptoe into the hospital room and squeal "Baby!" when he sees the baby (he always squeals when he sees babies). Seriously. I am dying, but I'm also extremely grateful. Sure, I'm on pins and needles right now, but I'm doing a whole lot better than I was last time around.
This is me the afternoon before my water broke with Max (two weeks + some change from where I am now):
I had all kinds of scary complications with Max. Looking at these two belly pictures, I actually wouldn't be surprised if Henry comes out weighing more than Max, but this time around, I haven't had high blood pressure at any of my doctor's visits. I haven't swollen anywhere other than my fingers (I could poke a whole inch into my ankles by the end of my last pregnancy) and I can still put on my weddings rings- I don't, just in case, but I can. My face is fuller, but my thighs are still a good two inches apart when I stand and, even though most of my maternity shirts no longer fit, I still have not been put on bedrest. I have an appointment tomorrow and I could be, but I had already been down for two and a half weeks at this point with Max, so even if I were on bedrest for a month, it would be better than the five-ish weeks I spent on our couch two summers ago.
One of the great things about a second pregnancy is that you've done it before. Not everything is the same, but you've been through the whole process before and you know there is an end, even when it doesn't feel like it. The first time, I cried so many times about stupid things like stretch marks and would sit for hours looking at horror stories on the Internet and then spend more hours crying about the stories I read on the Internet. This time around, I don't give a crap about how many more stretch marks I acquire and I never read horror stories on the Internet. I just want to have a healthy baby and I want be healthy after delivery, too. I am so ready to be a mom to two. So! Even though I know these next few weeks are going to be painful and I'm going to have multiple crying fits because it's miserable to move and I want my little baby in my arms, I'm going to do my best to live in these moments because they don't come very often and they lead up a little swaddled baby who will grow into a toddler and then a child, a teenager, and an adult- all of whom will be mine to love.
Ah! I love being a mom, even when I have my bad days.
That said, I have never been as prone to swearing as I have during this pregnancy. I can stub my toe or misplace my keys or not reach someone on the phone or not be able to pick something up off the floor and my mouth lets out a stream of words so ridiculous that they make my cheeks scarlet, even though I'm the one that said them.