OK, enough already

While I am the official Queen of Procrastinating, and consistently pay no mind to deadlines as they whiz past me (and land somewhere in the back of my mind, only to accumulate dust over weeks and weeks of being ignored), I also have my father's (and grandfather's) (and grandmother's) patience level. On top of these wonderful traits, I also have my mother's sense of worrying about things that are insane. So when my wonderful friend Jenny checks in on me and asks if I've been feeling the baby kicking, I start to wonder, Am I? Or are those just contractions, or my body moving? Is there something wrong with the baby?

And when Bill asks how I'm feeling, and I say my heart is beating really fast, we both get nervous that there's something wrong with me, and it's going to hurt the baby. Bill says I should call the doctor, but to say what? "Hey, doc. My heart is beating"? I'm pretty sure they're assuming that it is.

Since my miserable due date, I feel totally fine again. I felt bad, and now I'm better. But there's still the knowledge that I'm going to feel 100 times worse than that during the labor. And even worse -- I may have moved past that crampy, crappy feeling, but I still have no baby to show for it, so what good was it? It was pointless.

I, like all of the other still-pregnant ladies I stalk on the July 2009 Birth Club group on BabyCenter, just want to have my baby, safe and healthy and happy in my arms. Because then I'll know. There's so much now that I don't know, and that the doctors can't know. I just want to have the baby and know that he or she is OK. And then we can move on with this new life from there.