After 8 1/2 months of growing a little person inside of me -- 8 1/2 months of ultrasounds, sonograms, morning sickness, evening heartburn, some backache, some front-ache, a lot of tired time, a lot less of gym time, clothes that don't fit, inability to comfortably sit, sleepless nights, exhausting days, an overabundance of advice, and 17 blog posts -- we have pulled into the homestretch. This baby girl is officially full-term, which means she's already over 6 pounds, about the size of a bunch of Swiss chard (fancy!) and can safely make her way into the world today with everything she's got. The due date is not for another three weeks, but as I've been reminded on countless occasions, here at TODAY, most first time moms go two weeks early. Hashtag ReadyToNotBePregnantAnymore.
It's funny to me that with all the technology we have to predict, monitor, gage and track every last detail of this pregnancy, there's no way of knowing exactly when and how I'm going to deliver. It's like a total crap shoot! They can already tell that my daughter is going to play lacrosse in high school, love the color orange, excel at math and volunteer on Thursdays, but they have no idea, shy of a rough guess of a due date, when she's going to get here. Fascinating.
A quick thank you for all the Twitter advice I received from those of you who have blazed this pregnancy trail before me. I have read and recently begun to process everything. Some of my favorites:
Thank you for sharing. I hope I remember everything. Most likely I won't. If not, I always have my friend Josh Glatt (father of three wonderful little ones) reminding me that raising kids isn't rocket science.
JOSH: Raising kids isn't rocket science.
ME: Well I hope not because I didn't exactly ace science class in school.
JOSH: Please work on your jokes before the baby gets here.
But poor Josh was on the receiving end of one of my rare hormonal rants recently. He made a pet-peeved comment about how I'm too overly prepared for my first kid: prepping the room, planning the feed and sleep schedule, organizing her bathtub toys, washing all her clothes, sheets, towels, making everyone get a whooping cough shot. He tried to tell me that it'll be the kid dictating most of the routines and not me... and that a lot of my running around is a waste of time. He wasn't being rude at all, he was just offering up advice on behalf of someone who's done this a few times. And while I completely understand where he's coming from, my point was that it's easy to have perspective when you're on your second or third kid. As a first timer, however, it's all new and exciting. I want to play in that new and exciting space for a while before I get jaded.
My brother and sister-in-law practically made us all shower before we came anywhere near their first kid. By the second kid, we were playing in the Central Park sand pit all day. If there's a third ... can you say mud wrestling??? There's no telling how lax the rules will be.
Look. Steph and I are madly in love with this kid and we haven't even met her yet. If I'm a smidge over-prepared (I just put a down payment down on her college off-campus housing), so be it. I'm sure it too shall pass ... most likely after her first big poop.