Last week, I was pretty worried. I worried about labor--whether it would go OK, that I wouldn't be able to handle it, that I wasn't ready.
Last week, I worried about Dr. B's job prospect. That he wouldn't get a call. That he would get a call, and it would be a "no". That they would never call and he'd be worried for months.
Last week, I cried. I yelled. I was depressed. I was overjoyed.
Last week, I had zits like you wouldn't believe. I think it was a hormone surge.
Today, I am feeling pretty good. I still have heartburn, an aching back, occasional contractions, and difficulty sleeping, but I'm pretty used to that by now. I've let go of my labor worries. It will happen as it does, and we'll deal with it.
I've let go of the job worries. We know he's in the top 2. We know they want both candidates. We know they might not get funding for both, and if they don't, he might be the one who doesn't get it. But we'll deal with it, which ever it is. Something will turn out, it always does.
Things will work out for us. We know this. We've been through the worst, losing my mom, and we've survived. We've put ourselves out there, moving to France, and we've thrived. We've made it through very tough stuff, and we've only gotten stronger and our love for each other has only grown deeper.
And soon, we'll have a new little life to add to our family. We're excited to welcome her, to get to know her, to find out who she is and what she's like.
The only nightmares I've had lately is finding out that this her is a him, and I have only girl clothes in the drawers. (I had a dream last night that the baby was a boy. A boy with a penis so big it went down to his ankles. Dr. B didn't believe I was telling the truth, so when he picked up his son, little Zizou peed all over his face.)
But even if that does happen, we'll be fine. We'll survive. We'll thrive. (After all, pee washes off.)