Let’s skip the apologies and just tell you the truth. I’m always behind on tasks. I’ve got emails to send, to-do lists to tackle, phone calls to make and yes a blog to update. I don’t know what it is about month nine but everything including my mental faculties hit a major slow down. So the apology is this, I’ve had things to update on and a hankering to put my blogging shoes on but try as I might I usually end up staring at my laptop from across the room. My arm out-stretched toward ‘Stevie’ my white Sony (was the crème de la crème four years ago) laptop, making groping actions with my fingers, but it’s all just for show and no writing comes of it. I do apologize. I’m so far behind that I’m actually a lot closer to week 38 of pregnancy than I am to week 32. My original plan was to blog once a week, which seemed reasonable! However, I’m a weak creature who succumbs to naps more often than she writes. Napping sounds glorious I know … but another horrible truth is that I’m so big these days and since it’s frigging July I am not sleeping. What I am doing is rolling around moaning and mourning the death of my nocturnal pleasures so loudly my husband has just about lost his mind. Also this morning, whilst in the middle of an attempt to turn over, I am almost positive I hit him in the face and I didn’t even apologize. I’m serious when I say I’ve turned. Turned into the pregnant ogress I always knew I would become. Thank god the doctor says everything is on track and this baby seems to be ready to meet the world sooner than expected. Come on, baby. You need to be born to take the heat off Daddy.

This could be a post all on its own, actually. I few weeks back I was writing a blog entry in my head (which is the usual way for writer-wannabes.) A post titled “An ode to a preggo’s Hubby” and by the time I had for all intents and purposes wrapped it up mentally though remained sadly unwritten, I had realised once again what a saint I am married to. I’ll spare you what could be an intolerable sugary-sweet confection of a blog entry about how much in love I am with this sainted man, and simply digress as quickly as possible. The Cliff-Notes version ahead: My Husband is the epitome of patience and support. He’d have the kid if it were possible just so I wouldn’t have to suffer for one moment but it isn’t the grand gestures I am talking about here that are so incredible, it is the small moments, the quiet moments that all collected make me feel … I swear there is no word yet created that does it justice.  When you have a man who kisses your back at night whenever you wake up, has been doing so for the last seven years, you learn from that person what real dedication and love is. It isn’t conscious, it’s unconscious. He is this way because he has no other nature in him. He is the only reason to have a baby, his love knows no bounds and this child in my belly will soon know and experience what I have every day for itself – utter selflessness. Perhaps this, the child of two people who write for the love of writing will create this word I need to perfectly describe Hubby’s indescribable ability to love.

See cynics? That wasn’t too much to swallow was it? I really reigned myself in there and if you know me personally, then you really know what a feat that was.  One paragraph on love? Miraculous.

On Friday this week I will be officially begin week 38 of pregnancy and the baby everyone said would be late because it has a mother who isn’t on time for anything is looking like it already prefers to show Mommy up and be more like dear ol’ Dad (annoyingly and consistently on time and worse, from time to time, early.) It looks certain this baby will be arriving sooner than later, and that could not be better news to a woman with swollen Shrek feet (Bestie’s terminology) and a worsening mood with every passing day. The pressure of the baby’s head on my crotch is driving me out of my tree and I’m scared to poop. Watched too many shows where idiot women unknowingly gave birth to their spawn in toilets now to not be terrified of intestinal peristalsis. I’m a great believer in ‘natural selection’ but I think that theory dropped the ball when it let these women procreate. Accidentally even. Oi.

I spent so much time in my head reflecting early on during my pregnancy, that it resulted in the last six weeks being a bit of gong show. We had so little done that by the time the baby showers were over and we had put the main things in order like hospital paperwork, healthcare insurance, diaper services, getting the baby gear (known lovingly as sinking slowly into more debt) we had worked ourselves right into week 38. Literally had no time to contemplate that labour is coming, that the baby is coming, that soon I’d be trading my name for “Mama.” It would be overwhelming if I didn’t still have to-do lists to complete. At a time in my life where maybe planning would benefit me, it seems I am still not sold on that idea. Why plan when you can stress yourself to death? Exactly.

Finally today, Hubby and I did a final run around and got my last minute essentials. The nursing bra, god that is a sexy piece of equipment. I had no idea I could highlight my back fat so well! If only I knew there was a bra out there that lets you whip out your nips with the greatest of ease, I could have made putting-out on dates an easier task! See, I’ll never put-out again, because now I know that leads to crotch fatigue and babies. We also hit up “Babies ‘R’ Us” where Hubby managed to keep his cool while I poured over labels, misinterpreted information and made demands. He quietly conceded to my requests and survived me snapping at him needlessly and at the end of it all whipped out the credit card without question. Saint. Lastly upon arriving home he installed the baby car seat and cleaned the car top to bottom, while I puttered up in the apartment trying to find places for the artifacts of our new lives. I don’t want to tempt fate, but I daresay we are ready for labour. Bring it on. I’ve packed my hospital bag and I’m ready to willingly give up the under-used elasticity of my vagina.

So? I want to sign off while saying see you here next week for another blog entry where I say more things that upset my friends and family, but alas, now you know what I am like when I have self imposed deadlines. However, in an effort to not lose myself in mommyhood, I promise to ignore my kid once in a while for the betterment of reading material on the web. I realise my job is extremely important, vital you might say, and I’m not talking about parenthood for once. Thanks for reading, my lovelies.