Confessions of (an impatient) First-Time-Mommy-Over-Achiever

Just as I have a need to control the many details of preparing for once he's here, I also have this deep desire to control when he arrives. There isn't a particular day when I want him to enter, its more like....NOW! haha I have hit that stage that most expectant mothers arrive at: the "I'm SO over it" stage! Now I really have so little to complain about as I sit around here very late in pregnancy. I'm full term and still really not horribly uncomfy. I have had little to no swelling, little backpain (which I attribute to my AMAZING chiropractor), I am still able to walk my mile per day, I am still able to work easily, and I just have some minor discomfort which they so lovingly and deceivingly call "pressure".

SO, why the impatience for him to get here? Well, I'm just over it. It's like waiting for a long-awaited package to arrive in the mail. Every day you check your mail box and walk way with nothing but bills and coupons to some hardware store that you know will just get trashed. You can't control the mail system and it just completely irks the crap out of you. Well, I can't control my bag of water, my cervix, OR Reesor. Yes yes, laugh it up....I will never be able to control Reesor, I know I know. I should practice "letting go" now shouldn't I? I know that too. I should embrace these last days of sleeping in (or sleeping at all) and of the freedom to just zoom around from place to place without a car seat to lug, baby to feed, or diaper to change. I know this too.

But the "I'm OVER IT" stage has hit and try as I may to relax and embrace it I still find myself googling "pressure points to induce labor", taking the max of Evening Primrose Oil, looking to see when the next full moon is (it's next week by the way), and making plans with Aaron to eat at Scalini's Italian Restaurant where they are known for putting women into labor with the eggplant parmesan. Then there are the other "unmentionables" that would embarrass the heck out of you if I were to write them out. Go ahead, keep rolling those eyes cause I'm doing it too. I'm just ready to meet my little guy, let his tiny fingers curl around his daddy's and yes, even get up with him every two hours for a feeding.

So there it is, more confessions. Don't judge me people, don't judge.