Never in my wildest dreams did I think there’d be a day where I’d be hoping to find out that my wife had wet her pants.
Let me explain.
My wife, Kim, is now 39 weeks pregnant. The due date is in a week, and she is unbelievably ready to not be pregnant anymore.
I feel terrible for her. She rarely sleeps, and when she does, it is interrupted sleep. She’s uncomfortable all the time. She’s sore all over. She’s so close to the end of the race, and she’s ready to be done running.
Now that we’re so close, it’s tough. Every time she goes to the bathroom, rolls over in bed and makes an unusual noise or just leaves my sight, in general, there’s a small part of me that wonders…”Is this it? Is it happening?”
Our bags are packed, for the most part. We’re about as ready as we can be. It’s just a matter of when our little guy decides it’s time to make his entrance.
It’s kind of like being packed for a vacation, except that we don’t know when this vacation will begin. It’s almost impossible to go on with our everyday life.
So, in the meantime, Kim just keeps bouncing on an exercise ball, eating spicy food and doing all the other things that are supposed to induce labor, while I watch, helplessly, trying to be vigilant and constantly ready to go.
It’s been a wild journey, but it’s almost done, and a new one will be beginning soon!