Waiting...

Just waiting for Boots to be born.
Since day one I have been telling little guy to be born in April. April has no birthdays in it see, and May is lousy with them, April would be so nice.
But April came and went.
That's ok! May is such a perfect month. It has always been a small source of pride that I was born in the beautiful month of May. Oliver will like May.
Do you ever tell time by household objects? I used to do that a lot in anticipation of his arrival. When doing things like filling up the soap dispenser in the bathroom I would think about how "I will be washing my hands with this soap after I will have changed Oliver's teeny tiny diaper."
Well, we used up that soap, and I have already refilled it again.
Or... "I bet I will be using this giant box of soy in full strength lattes when Oliver is here!"
That was 2 boxes of soy ago, and I've since then switched to almond milk.
We have harvested our last clean pairs of underwear from our hospital bag twice. Which means we have gone through an entire cycle of clean laundry. (Which takes a long time! Since doing laundry is the worst, and we like to wait until we are wearing our swim suit bottoms, or in this case our specially reserved for the hospital by no means should we take them out of this bag underwear- before we bite the bullet and start the great upheaval that is Doing the Household's Laundry) and we have done this...twice.
Last week I was beyond impatient, happy to complain about my discomfort, and was betting on my delivering Washington's first fully grown tax paying adult to anyone who would listen*.
This week, I am finally at peace.
All notions of "It's going to be today!" are gone. I have done everything you or your grandma ever did to get labor moving, so don't tell me about it. (I guess to be safe, let's just keep all of our well meaning comments regarding pregnancy to ourselves.)
I see now that if he decides to camp out in there, it's not for lack of my doing everything to get him out in a timely manner. I am completely resigned to his time table. Peacefully, and without resent. He will be here when he gets here.
Which is liberating. I can finally rest, read, and think about his tiny little fuzzy head, without feeling like I should be busy elsewhere, in labor and delivery.
And I gratefully leave the agitation and impatience to my friends and family who are quietly watching me, wide eyed, taking in the signs, hands on cell phones.
Any time now...


*At 38 weeks he was measuring at 41...a big boy.