Today is my due date. “Still pregnant!” is my response when anyone asks how I am.
Friday I was SURE I was about to go into labor. I had been having contractions since the night before and it just *felt* like things were on the cusp of progressing to the next level. I left work early, picked up Matteo, and came home to a houseful of friends watching basketball, drinking beer and cooking huge amounts of Mexican food for us. It was awesome and perfect.
And then the contractions stopped.
Since then I’ve been pretty crabby. I’m exhausted and achy and ready to get this show on the road. There is something about hitting – and passing – the due date that I find really frustrating. (Coincidentally, Matteo was also due on the 26th.) Even though you know that only 5% of women deliver on their actual due date, it’s the answer to the question, it’s the date circled on the calendar, it’s the number stuck in your head from the day you find out your pregnant and are able to calculate when you are due. So when it comes and goes you’re kind of like, “oh, ok…now what?”
Hopefully, this time around I won’t have to wonder when for quite so many extra days.