I am having a little bit of the pregnancy senioritis.
Every second of the day I’m like, “Maybe I’ll go into labor right now so that I won’t have to (insert various life obligation).”
I have a false impression that once I go into labor, I won’t have to pay another bill, attend another event, read another news article, organize another shelf, cross one thing off another never-ending list, etc. etc. etc.
We’ll just get to sit around with a tiny, cuddly person all day, right?
As a woman who was up all night before her wedding making the programs, I cannot handle the anticipation related to such a flexible deadline. Anytime between NOW and a month from now?! This is lame.
Of course, we’re not ready, but we’ll never be ready. Whatever that means. And all this anxiousness about being ready will have to just shut up once labor starts because, hey — there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re in labor.
Getting the baby out is going to be a long and painful bitch, but I feel like postpartum depression, sleepless nights and poopy diapers will offer a refreshing change of pace.
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