"When are you due?"
Sometimes I wonder how many times I heard and said that. A lot, I bet.
One year ago today was Bug's due date. I didn't get to meet her for another 7 days, of course, because she was running a bit behind. (Not sure what she was so busy doing in there that she needed an entire extra week. She came out bald and naked, after all.)
I laugh when I think about those last few weeks of pregnancy. I wasn't as crazy for her to come out as the blog made it look. Babies are much more difficult to take care of outside of the womb than inside, even when you factor in the pregnancy heartburn and all the waddling and peeing and whatnot. I was lucky, too-- I was as comfortable it's possible to be when you're the size of Costco without any pain or real complaints. I slept reasonably well (see: all the peeing) and my feet never swelled until after she came out.
I worked full-time until I was 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Every morning I'd haul myself all the way from the employee parking section across the long expanse of pavement and into the office. The front desk crew would audibly groan when they saw the still-very-pregnant me plodding along. I lumbered past the receptionist about 25 times a day at my old job, sometimes 30 seconds apart. Each and every time she'd excitedly ask if I was feeling any cramping or pain. "Nope!" I'd cheerfully respond, and she'd sort of visibly deflate. I imagine they were all thrilled when I didn't come to work that final Friday. I don't know for sure; I never returned to that job. (See: Things we thought were a good idea at the time until everything completely derailed.)
October 18th. October 18th. My first baby was due on October 18th.