This is the farthest I have ever gone in pregnancy. Sam was born exactly two weeks shy of her due date. So, wow.
I am pretty amazed that this second pregnancy, so close to the first one, in which I ran 10+ miles a week until I was 37 weeks pregnant is now going to be longer than my first. And to think, all this time I was worried about going early!
My feelings are, as always, quite mixed. I had a fantastic birthday, just a perfect day really. I spent time with friends, lots of time with R and Sam, saw my family at the end of the day and had a date night with R (and Mar) that included both Gelato and plenty of Christian Bale. And to both I must say: YUMMY.
So, I am overall glad that he did not make an appearance this weekend. Days like that do not happen with newborns. I am trying so hard to appreciate these last few days alone with Sam and R, trying (TRYING!) to get the work I need to finish completed and trying to see all the friends I worry I will not see for months.
On the other hand, I am so anxious to meet this little guy. I can't wait to see his tiny little hands and fingers and toes. I can't wait to know (g-d willing) that he is healthy and that I am healthy through the birth. I just feel nervous about what is to come and wish I had a date. If I knew when, I could relax much better. It is the not knowing, the over-analysis, that is killing me.
I am working on my patience. This morning in Yoga, I even meditated on it. The truth is, he will come when he is ready (I hope--do not even get me started on my new anxiety--going post-term). In the meantime, I am going to try like hell to work and enjoy these fleeting days of just Sam-Sam.