Every strange sensation could be my waters breaking. Every twinge of pain could be labor starting. I am in a state of constant vigilance. I have no idea what it's going to be like.
I have no idea when it's going to start. We've got a few bets placed, a few favored days marked on the iCal, but we are and will remain in the dark until it happens. It could be any day. It could be tonight right after I post this entry. It could be Feb 10th when Jared starts teaching a brand new class at school. It could begin quickly when I am home alone with the dog and no car. It could start quietly in the night while I sleep. It could be initiated in a hospital bed with a slow drip of Pitocin, or in an operating room under the brightest lights.
But one way or another, presumably at some point during the next 18 days, it will happen. It has to, right? This baby that has grown from bits of me and bits of Jared will cease to be a squirmy, troublemaking part of my body and will become her own air-breathing, milk-drinking, sound-making little person. And Jared and I will cease to be just two happily married dog owners and will become a father and a mother.
It's the heaviest ordinary thing in the world.