Yes, it's my due date, and no, the baby is not here yet. It might be my due date, but I guess the baby has other plans. This is not easy for me. June 17 (my first due date) came and went without a baby and I kept telling myself that by September 19 I would be holding my sweet baby in my arms. I've stared at that date on the calendar for a long time. And now September 19 might just come and go too. Of course I know my baby is coming and he/she is coming soon. I realize that rationally. But emotionally, I feel like a 6-year-old on Christmas morning waking up to a giftless tree still waiting for Santa to arrive. (Yes, I know I grew up Jewish but we can all imagine what that would feel like.)
I realize my thought process and emotions are completely childish. I know how lucky I am. I know I have so much to be thankful for and excited for. And I am. But I'm being totally honest here and I'm telling you like it is. I want my baby OUT!!!!!
It doesn't help that my friends and family are calling and emailing by the dozens to ask if I'm still pregnant. I know they all mean well but do you really think my mother is going to somehow miss the big announcement?!?!?! Um, last time I checked, yes, still pregnant. Pregnant enough that some man last night walked by me, looked at my belly and just said, "WOW!" I am past the point of cute pregnant girl. I am obnoxiously huge, stop-and-stare pregnant girl. It really isn't that fun anymore.
Nobody tells you in the beginning that the AVERAGE for first time moms is 41 1/2 weeks. And nobody seems to accept that either (and certainly not my mother!) They think of your due date as your cut-off -- that if the baby isn't here by that date, there is something seriously wrong with you. I should have told people I was due in the beginning of October instead. I should have told myself that too. I've had to actually switch my daily walking route to avoid a well-meaning neighbor who comes outside every day just to say to me, "You're still here?!?!?!"
Ultimately my baby gets to choose the due date. And I do sort of like the idea that it gets to choose its very own birthday. No matter what I do (and trust me, I have tried EVERYTHING) this baby is going to come on its own time. And my job is to sit back, trust mother nature, have confidence in my body and accept that my child is neither habitually early like its father or always right on time like its mother.
I guess someone in the family has to be late.