In which it all starts to feel like one long waiting game.
A deeper, more hindering exhaustion settling in.
The initial nesting, and preparation coming to a close.
Waking, wondering, upon every ache and pain that slips by you, if today is in fact the day.
Part of you, still nervous about the reality of labor unfolding, even when it's your fourth time around and every part of your body is telling you it's nearly time. The baby big, and growing bigger everyday.
While your own skin starts to slow, and swell and everything you need to move about your day feels suddenly off kilter and only harder and harder to control.
In them midst of nine months, the final stretch as they say.
Where plenty of your afternoon hours are now spent in simple idle.
Napping, reading, folding clothes, watching Tv, enjoying the last of all those sweet indulgences that came to touch new cravings through the months that you know will have to be put aside once the baby is here and your favorite old clothes start to taunt you.
Throughout the day I take at least two baths because the relief is warm, and instantly soothing.
We watch Game of Thrones late at night when the house is quiet, the dishes done, and the toys put away.
Anxious, as expected. To greet this new tiny being.
But more patient this time around because every day it seems there is a list of "things" we hope to finish, or cross off before it's "time."
We're getting there.
Day by day feeling slightly more ready than the last.
And soon, as I know, when we least expect it, they are here.
And instantly, it's as if you can't remember a day when they weren't...