It feels like I've been pregnant forever, I am not going to lie. I forget what it's like to not be pregnant. And they say that your ninth month is a tough one, and man, they aren't lying. Today alone, I sit here chewing Tums like candy to keep the heartburn down and can barely walk because my right hip hurts so much from the ever expanding Half-pint. I'm ready for her to be here. I'm ready for her to be in my arms and not in my belly.
Last night, I found myself drawn to Half-pint's nursery. I sat there in there for a good twenty minutes in my rocking chair, looking around and picturing how much is about to change. She'll be sleeping in that crib soon. All of those soft blankets and pink outfits I have carefully washed and folded will be put to use in just a few weeks. In a few weeks, those books on the shelf that T reads to her in my belly, he'll be reading to her as he rocks her to sleep. It's almost here.
T found me in the nursery last night with tears in my eyes. I was crying because I was happy, but also because, well...I'm a little nervous and scared, too. I'd be lying if I didn't say that these past nine months haven't been hard. These past few weeks have been the hardest. All of the health scares and doctor's appointments, all of it...she and I have both been fighers and we're almost to the end of the battle here. And I want 100 percent reassurance that it is going to go well. I want to know that the surgery will be just fine and that she will come out just fine and so will I. I'm not the kind of person who just goes with the flow. I want guarantees. But I also know that isn't reality. Instead, I sat there praying. Praying that God will watch over the both of us these next few weeks.
Three more weeks. That's all we have. Three more weeks and I meet my little girl.