My due date has officially come and gone, without a baby.
Apparently our son has decided to take after his two-weeks-late dad, and stay warm and comfy until the last possible moment. Probably not the worst thing, but in case you’ve inferred this from my last few posts, I am pretty anxious to meet this little guy!
I was positive he was coming last weekend — a combination of symptoms, my doctor telling me that I was starting to dilate, and my good old gut were all telling me that this baby was almost here.
But… It’s now a week later. And that baby is most certainly not here.
So Baby B. has missed his chance to be born on Earth Day or Easter.
But all isn’t lost: We can still hold out hope for his birthday to fall on National Pretzel Day, Hairstyle Appreciation Day, or National Shrimp Scampi Day, all coming up this week.
Me? I’m starting to accept that this is all completely out of my control, and I’m going to focus on enjoying our last weekend of sleeping in, loafing around, and going out for coffee, dinner, shopping, and whatever else I feel like.
While still setting my sights on Shrimp Scampi day, obviously. Eyes on the prize, people.