Four More Days . . .

My body is definitely ready not to be pregnant any longer. Having to use the facilities every one-two hours (both day and night, no exaggeration) the entire 9-months I've been pregnant has taken its toll.

My mind is another story though.

Left to my mind to decide, I don't know that I'd ever have this baby. I'm just too much of a worrier and never feel ready for big life changes. It's not that I think I have "too much to do" before she comes (although, come to think of it, there are a few items I should currently be tackling). It's more that I sit and worry and fret and pretty soon am completely emotional and anxiety stricken about how I'm going to handle two children. I mean, seriously, how will I?

I've had some incredible friends help boost my enthusiasm, though. I've received so many gifts from friends from all over the country who will never know how much they mean to me, including my amazingly talented friend Christina (I hope she doesn't mind if I brag about her for a minute). A few months ago, I pinned a cute rag quilt on my Pinterest. Christina is quite observant and a discussion ensued about her making me one just because she's cool like that and she knows how, but mostly just because she's cool like that. Much to my surprise, a package arrived last week in the mail and I opened it to find this beauty (photo stolen from her blog without permission):

 

Seriously, isn't it gorgeous? If I were her, I would have kept it for myself. Granted, she has all boys, but still. I would have kept it and stared at it all day long--which I pretty much do, speechless that someone made this piece of art for me. Some day I vow to be as talented and giving as Christina. If a sewing-savvy friend can move by me to teach me the ways of the sewing world so that this goal can be made possible, I'd be grateful. 

Last night I rocked James to sleep for the first time in well over a year (usually I sing him a song or two and plop him in bed). But last night he was scared to be alone in his room, so I held him longer and kept on singing and he finally fell asleep on my shoulder. And then tears streamed down my face with the thought that soon he will no longer be my baby. I mean, in some ways he'll always be my baby, and in some ways it seems like he hardly was--he grew up way too fast. Maybe this little girl will take her time a little more than her brother did.

So, four more days to go . . . Brian told me the other day that he secretly hopes I go into labor on my own because he's always wanted to do the whole jumping into the car, rushing off to the hospital scene. Awesome. Thanks, Brian. I'm just anxiously awaiting Friday and hoping I stay sane until then.