I keep needing to remind myself that, as close as I am, I still have one week before reaching "full term" and that even after I do reach that magical point in the pregnancy, I have a month to wait before "the due date." I've stocked our pantry with clear liquid foods like Jell-O and chicken broth, I've washed and laid out the "going home"outfit for Little Bird, I've hung nursery drapes and vacuumed out the new nursery rug, I've made a list of things to pack for the hospital. I am, in short, ready. When I had three false contractions in half an hour last night, I'll admit I was getting excited rather than concerned.
Apparently, my husband feels the same way. Last night, as I lay in bed counting numbers to fall asleep, I felt his hand reach out and hit gently against my belly. Since we were facing each other, I just assumed he'd accidentally stretched out and hit me. But no. Soon enough, a volley of light punches were falling on my belly and I had to wake him up from some sort of dream state and tell him he was punching me. He doesn't remember what he was dreaming, but I'm pretty certain it was something along the lines of, "Get out of there already! We can't take this any more!"
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