"Holy cow! Your pregnancy has gone by so fast for me!"
That's what people keep telling me when they hear how far along I am. It's funny that they would say that. Lucy has started to pretend to be pregnant, zipping her baby doll up into her pajamas and then demanding, "Put your hand right here. Did you feel that?" It is definitely endearing. This little act has not been one to which Seth has succumbed. It just shows that that burning maternal instinct is lit from the start.
If I could be anywhere in the world right now, if I could choose, blink my eyes, and be there it would be by the hospital bedside of my older sister now laboring to bring forth her firstborn son. I would hold her hand and tell her these things,
"You are the strongest woman on the earth."
"You are doing the most amazing job."
"He's so close and can't wait to meet his mother."
"I love you, you can do it."
These are the things I want someone to say to me in six weeks. There is nothing worse, as you labor hour upon hour, than being ignored. Strapped down with monitors, and IVs, while all focus is in the rear--your rear. All three births, I've had these same thoughts: "I want someone spilling encouragement into my ears constantly." I'm so demanding.
That's it. Just thinking of my sister, wishing I were there--oh, and scrambling to make Easter count this year.