We've been playing the waiting game the past few weeks, which consists of lots of daily household chores just-in-case, long trips to the park for Max, an addiction to plastic dinosaurs, lots of father-son wrestling matches, good meals, retail therapy, a whole lot of sitting and laying down for me, and other funny things. Also, I watched Titanic for the first time since junior high (possibly high school?). That's noteworthy, right? Right.
Anyway, Andrew's estimated arrival for Henry was September 18th and mine was September 21st. We were (obviously) both wrong, which goes to show that babies do whatever they want to do and, even when their only sibling came a whoppin' three weeks early, they may want to stay in as long as possible. I'm not going to lie, I was on pins and needles the days leading up to Week 37 and I thought I had died when I passed the day Max was born, but I'm pretty content now. Plus, since Henry is schooling us in stubbornness, I now have the knowledge that stretch marks stretch in every way, your belly can, in fact, get much bigger than it has ever gotten before, and it is possible to have a baby butt (visibly) sticking out of the left side of your stomach as two little heels (visibly) stick out of the right side of your stomach. Also, when you've had a baby nearly a month early, it's pretty common to feel weeks overdue even though you're having your baby six days early no matter what. And, I'll be honest, since I hope to be pregnant again one day, those are pretty good things to know now instead of later.
P.P.P.S. FOUR days.