The Wait

Well, here we are, 38 weeks - full term!
My new mantra is "I could go at any time" a la Leonardo Di Caprio's character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
James and I have been trying to pack in lots of things we won't be able to do for a while–go to the movies, play poker, go see some shows.
Our pantry is stocked, the laundry is done, the baby's room is ready. We've got our hospital bags in the car, complete with snacks. Our gas tanks are full. The car seats are installed. We have diapers, wipes, burp cloths, a swaddler.
We have not whittled our name list down, but we have lots of options - Smoky, Danube, Rockstar, Fanwell, Delicia... nah, just kidding.
I am alternately very excited and gushy about meeting Boots and vaguely anxious about what lies between now and then. There will be pain, and I am trying to be zen about that. Pain with a purpose. Punctuated pain. Finite pain. If it gets to be way too much, I'll get some relief. One lesson about pregnancy and childbirth, which I imagine is good prep for parenthood, is that you just don't know exactly what lies ahead, and you can get ready, but it ultimately it will be what it is. It's out of your hands.