In response to my improvised version of Jeopardy for Christmas last year, Mom asked, “How are you going to beat this next year?” I simply said, “I won’t.” That took some pressure off. It’s never any fun to give if you always feel like you have to top yourself each year, with so much pressure on yourself. You wind up spending more and more money for less return. By the same token, I don’t want Boop’s expectations to be too high. Ah, to have the rare child who is happy with clothes from Santa from a young age!
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| Speaking of clothes, I'm excited about Boop socks--Look how tiny, even when put next to her little sweater! |
But that said, I think my pregnancy easily tops the Jeopardy game. Hopefully, my Boop will wait a bit longer and won’t make her appearance until after Christmas. 37 weeks sounds about right. Oh, but I hope she doesn’t get too comfortable and set up camp there for too long. The thought of being over 40 weeks pregnant makes me cringe. Every week, she just keeps getting bigger, and the prospect seems more and more painful. I try not to think too much about it, or to think about the general risks involved in giving birth. Yet, I can’t help but think that she will be a big girl!
Every few days, there’s a new sign that delivery is not far away. I lost a bit of weight at my midwife visit on Friday. My massage therapist was telling me that she had a drop in weight right before her delivery; her doctor told her that a slight drop in weight can be a sign of impending delivery. Well, I know I’m in the final stages of the pregnancy but how soon?
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