Nope.

They say that it's fashionable to arrive at a party late.

Our baby is extremely fashionable.

To be honest, I think it's unrealistic for anyone to think that this 40-week contract is set in stone. I had a feeling that nature will take its course and do what it needs to do, and whenever our dinner guest decides to arrive, it will do so when it's healthy, happy and ready to play.

That being said, it's not without its frustration. Luckily, I love being pregnant and I don't have any physical issues, so I don't mind another bit of time to wait. Plus, it's more time that the mister and I get to have to ourselves, to possibly re-think the name that we like (yes, our baby will potentially be nameless at its birth. Hilarious), and to catch up on sleep, so that's fine by me. The frustrating bit is more on the emotional side- we're finally ready to be parents, and we're excited to meet this strange little creature that we've created. It's a bit of selfishness on our part, but hey, every soon-to-be-parent is allowed that, I would think.

I'm avoiding phones and any social contact like the plague right now- I just don't feel up to explaining to people that yes, I'm fine, no it's NOT here yet. Don't call us, we'll call you. The mister is doing our PR from now on. He's become my brain, for all intents and purposes, as I seemed to have lost mine about a week ago. 5th grade math would be a strain for me at this point, I feel.

My midwife has told us that from the symptoms I'm experiencing, I could pop any day now. That's really nice of her, but I'd rather not hold my breath, so we've stopped "watching the pot", so to speak. Things are operating as normal over here, and I prefer it that way.

Okay, now going back to eating ice cream and watching bad TV. I won't be able to have that luxury for a while, so I might as well take advantage of it. Small victories.