37 Weeks

I'm 37 weeks pregnant.

37 weeks!

It is unquestionably the most surprised I have ever been to reach this point.

I don't know why 37 weeks is such a big deal exactly, but it is! I mean this whole pregnancy is counted in terms of weeks, and, even 36 weeks still sounds like . . . a month . . . and earlier than a baby should safely come. But 37 weeks is just . . . not even a month! And suddenly it seems nobody worries it might be too early for a baby's arrival. (Not that I expect a baby to come right away. [In fact, it's the furthest thing from what I expect at the moment!] True I had one out of nine babies come at 38 weeks, but my other eight all came within days [before or after -- mostly after] of my official due date.) But it's just three weeks is such a small space of time! Why, just three weeks ago, on this very day, Goldie was busy breaking her leg. And that was only . . . one second ago it seems. It just happened! There are still gifted flowers on the counter and Mylar "Get Well Soon" balloons floating above the fireplace mantel. So 37 weeks? Three weeks to go? It just feels like: we are at the end!

Only I don't feel at the end at all! It seems actually impossible that in a few weeks I might suddenly go into labor or that within a month there will be an actual new person here, in our family! I can't wrap my mind around it at all. I can't make it a reality!

I haven't pulled out the car seat or bought a little pack of baby diapers to have ready. I haven't packed a hospital bag and other than the pack of plain white, side-snap onesies I purchased months ago I haven't bought a single cute new snuggly outfit or swaddling blanket. (Though admittedly that's partly due to my inability to see anything as "gender neutral". Had we known if a boy or girl was coming this time around, I probably would have purchased a thing or two.) But I keep thinking of earlier pregnancies when I had big project lists and chores all lined up to be accomplished by this point. "Forced nesting" I called it in my anxiousness to get everything ready and in control before baby arrived. I long for that same type of productivity and feeling of preparedness, but I can't seem to force anything! (Particularly when present life circumstances make doing anything above and beyond the minimum necessary to maintain order . . . almost impossible. With a family this big, that alone is truly work without pause.) And I feel unsettled knowing that there is so little time left . . . and I haven't done any major cleaning or readying. Only . . . I still can't make myself believe in this business of: not much time left.

Mike did pick up an umbrella stroller last weekend (our others having long since broken all their wheels or had the fabric of their seats ripped out). And, because he is amazing at noting anything I ever mention possibly wanting, he also brought a DockATot home to me. (I'd seen these trendy little portable baby sleepers/beds popping up everywhere recently, but looked them up only to be shocked at the ridiculous price tag that clearly showcased their trendiness more than their actual value. But when Mike saw one, oddly placed in the middle of all the other random things at this deeply-discounted BDO Outlet near us, he knew it would be a fun surprise for me.)

Anyway, I don't know what any of that has to do with anything really. I just suddenly see this big thing . . . suddenly almost real . . . and it doesn't feel real. And I feel this anxiousness like I am running out of time to understand what any of this is all about. It really was just so recently that I was still almost certain our family was complete. At this time last year I was truly 99.9% certain our family was truly complete. A baby wasn't on my radar at all. What a lot of unexpected wildness God can present in your life in just a small year's time! 

I don't have much more to say, but I'll copy here what I shared on Instagram early this week:

3.5 weeks. Which kind of makes it sound like this is really going to happen. Someone should buy some baby diapers. Or pack a hospital bag. Or check the car seat. Or do some "nesting". But I can't make it seem real. Just last May -- only ten measly months ago -- I was still 99.9% certain I'd brought all my babies here. And I still haven't really wrapped my mind around any of this. (Who on earth has ten babies anyway? Most of the time I don't even believe I have nine.) All I know is God presented me with an opportunity. He showed me something beautiful. Just this sliver. A glimpse. And then He stood back and let me decide. And I cried for three weeks straight. Because I wanted to choose it -- this huge thing that I'd only understood . . . almost nothing about. But I was too scared. Much much too scared. And then . . . somehow I wasn't. And I chose it. But even in the choosing, it hardly occurred to me that it would ever really be only 3.5 weeks away from becoming something far more than a brave idea.