The baby is ready. His head is so far down in my pelvis that I can no longer cross my legs. My bones are separated to the point that I can't stand on one leg or the whole skeletal structure screams at me to SIT DOWN. He has hiccups all of the time, loves it when I do yoga and stretches out every once in a while just to remind me that he is out of room.
Heaven knows his sisters are ready for him! They practice with their dolls every day.
But I am not ready. I know now that things can go wrong. I have delivered a lot of babies and it hurts. I don't want to pay a hospital bill because I'd rather save for a house. I can't deliver at home because I know now that things can go wrong. I hate that I'm ruling out medical pain management, even though I've never used it, because it is expensive. I don't want that scratchy baby monitor around my belly. I don't want an IV or that too-tight blood pressure cuff that goes off way too frequently. I don't want florescent lights screaming in my face. I don't want my son to be so far away when his brother finally comes.
So, even though I am uncomfortable and tired, I'm okay with waiting a bit longer. I know from other experiences that our Heavenly Father knows what I need and I will trust His timing and methods. At this point, that faith is the only thing keeping my wits together.
Well, that and leftover Easter candy.