The Waiting Game

We're ready.  We have the gadgets and the gear, we've packed the bag, we even have food ready in the kitchen.  Our families and friends are prepared. 

I went out to lunch with a group of about 12 friends and acquaintences this weekend.  I arrived a little early, so was nestled in behind the table when most of them arrived.  One told me congratulations under the notion that the little one had already arrived.  Otherwise, why would I be out?  It's as if people have taken what they can from the current situation, and are already looking to the next step. Me being pregnant is boring already. 

And I can't decide - am I still content to be in this very pregnant, mobility-limited, state?  Last week, I was more than happy with this existence.  But now, as workless week 3 starts and I become more and more annoyed with the increasingly sore legs and swollen feet, I think I'm about ready for the little one to make its appearance.

There has been an advantage to having a waiting period.  Each night, I've been going to sleep later, and our mornings get correspondingly later too.  Perhaps early maternity leave is a modern day method of preparation for the flexible sleeping hours that must accompany a newborn.  Whether it serves a function or not, I do feel a little surreal, and I have even caught myself having moments of laying on the bed contemplating the purpose of existence.

Baby, it's time!