Here I sit. Bouncing on my exercise ball because it's the most comfy place to rest. Sitting. Bouncing. Waiting.
At my last midwife appointment half a week ago she predicted that the baby would be here any day. For those who care, at that point I was 80% effaced and 4 cm dilated. As a point of reference for those of you who haven't had kids... many (most?) people get to the hospital in active labor when they're about 4 cm dilated. I've been this way for a week. And 2 cm for a week before that.
I'm ready. But I wasn't. Up until the last day or so I had so many things still to do. Work was crazy busy and I just couldn't get caught up--much less get ahead. My house was a mess. The baby room wasn't done. I still had to pack a bag for the hospital and finish washing clothes.
Now I'm ready. Some of those things are done. Some aren't. But none seem important anymore. The things that must be ready are. The rest don't matter.
Here I sit. Time sits too. Still and hot, like it should in the middle of summer. Except this year, when day could be the day. I expected to spend these last nine months full of joy and excitement. Full of plans and dreams. And I have... kinda. It's been different than I expected. More apprehension. Fewer dreams. Perhaps I'm just not that sentimental, but I tend to live more in the now and less in the future. And NOW is when the future and the now should meet and become the perfect time to greet this little person for real.