She was due yesterday. I'm still pregnant. Meh.

The due date was yesterday. No action so far. I've been walking walking and walking some more. We've been having awkward giant pregnant belly sex as much as possible. I'm about to start chugging castor oil if there is no progress soon. I just don't want the poor kid to have a Christmas birthday. She keeps dropping further and further which is resulting in nothing but an abundance of extremely unpleasant round ligament pain.

The anticipation is driving me nuts! It's like that feeling you would get when you were a kid on Christmas Eve; you are so excited to see what Santa brought, but Christmas morning seems UNBEARABLY far away. I just want to meet her and see her little face and hear her little noises and smell her baby smell!

I know that 40 weeks is just an average and that first babies have a tendency to be late... buuuuutttttt now that the magical semi-arbitrary due date has come and gone, I'm getting antsy as fuck. I JUST WANT THIS KID OUT!

So in the meantime I'm placating myself with doughnuts and Gilmore Girls and bubble baths and as many foot rubs as I can cajole out of my dear husband. The house is clean and all laundry has been done. All my Christmas shopping is completed and the gifts are wrapped. Nothing like the impending arrival of a newborn to get my ass motivated to get the Christmas shopping done ahead of time for the first time ever.

God I hope she's born soon. Everyone I know who has a birthday near Christmas abhors it. (And I've heard all about them, ever since we got pregnant and started telling people the due date I've heard alllllllllll the Christmas birthday stories, do trust.) Not to mention I absolutely cannot wait for sushi and wine. Oh man, sushi and wine, nom nom nom.