Today is officially the day that I consider myself entering the final stretch of this pregnancy. It is significant in the fact that we are now four weeks from the due date. That's a mere 28 days from today. But what made it seem like it might be getting close to the end was the sheer panic I felt when I told Clare that her birthday would be in two weeks and then equated that to the fact that only two weeks after that this baby is due. Uh, two two-week increments and there will likely be a floppy, pretty much helpless infant coming home to live with a rowdy three-year-old who, up until this point, has pretty much been the sole focus of my attention. Time to prepare, I'm thinking.
Now Clare is well aware that her baby will be coming soon. She's super curious how it is going to get out, what she will do while I am taking care of that task, and whether it will be ready to play ball with her. She is also in a very needy state at this point in time so I think she has a sense that my time will not be solely her time. And she keeps asking, "Do you think the baby is getting excited to meet his big sister?"
Ever read Julius, The Baby of the World by Kevin Henkes about Lily, who loves her baby brother to no end until he is born? Then all she hopes for is the day that he will be leaving. Ah, yeah, that's our world. Or Zaza's Baby Brother by Lucy Cousins about how a baby comes home and there is now no time to do what Zaza wants right when Zaza wants it done? Reality stinks sometimes!