Due dates, schmue dates, I'm beginning to think they're just a bunch of numbers.  My due date for baby #3 was January 28th...last Sunday...five days ago...last month.  You get the picture.

Campbell was a day early and Caiden was just four and a half hours late.  I expected #3 to be timely as well, as did my family.   Everyone's here and waiting...and waiting.  So of course I've been trying all those things you hear about to induce labor, from walking to spicy foods to balsamic vinegar to rubbing those spots by your ankles to mac n' cheese and A1 sauce.  The list goes on from there.   Nothing's worked.  The only thing going on in my midsection is heartburn and braxton hicks.  It seems like I get those constantly.  Any move I make brings one on, even a cough.  Where are those good labor contractions when you need them!  Whoda thought I'd be asking for contractions?  I really must be desperate.  I even thought the full moon would have helped me out a little.

But according to Murphy's Law, I'll have the baby during the Superbowl, for two reasons.  My sister, who wants to see the birth, has to fly out early that morning.  And my husband's favorite team of all time, Da Bears,  is playing for the title.  Place your bets.

I'm really trying to enjoy these last few days of the pregnancy.  (Or what I think are the last few days.)  I'll miss the kicks and movement.  It's like having a constant companion who doesn't give you any lip!  But I'm really anxious to find out if it's a boy or girl and to meet the newest member of the family!
Regardless, I just need to relax and enjoy the moment.  I'll only get one chance to do it.  And then just like that, it's over.