First, you’ve got to check out the belly. I took this one this morning at 36 weeks. How cute is she?! Love, love, love it.
I spoke too soon about our sleep success. Saturday night was a B.A.D. night at my house. Lots and lots and lots of crying. The kind that breaks your heart and makes it hard to think straight. The kind that initiates an are we doing the right thing? conversation. An early hours conversation between someone who is practically incoherent in the middle of the night AND clinging to the hope that this sleep approach will save us all (me) and someone who is in the throes of late pregnancy hormones and sure that Yogi is going to feel abandoned when Monkey arrives (my wife) is something any sane person would do well to avoid.
I couldn’t avoid it, but we all did make it through the night. And the next day. And last night was way better, so there is that. But the jitters persist.
Yogi was born at 37 weeks, so Monkey feels days away. Unfortunately, Muzzie and Grandpa will not be in town until next week so this baby must.wait. until the grandparents are in town. We have arrangements for Yogi should they not get to town in time, but we would both feel so much more comfortable knowing he was with them.
At some point over the weekend the my cervix is falling chanting has begun. Long time readers may remember that around this time last round, my wife began talking about how she was feeling different so much (“things are changing babe”, “I just feel different today”, “I don’t know what’s happening, but something is happening”) that I started calling her Chicken Little.
It is also true that Yogi was born two days after I wrote that post.
Ok universe, if you’re listening we REALLY need another good week. Be patient little Monkey. We’ll meet you soon enough.