I’ve reached the rapidly expanding phase of pregnancy (two thirds of the way there, baby!)—my pants look/feel like they were painted on, the double chin is in full effect, my once mid-thigh length shirts now barely cover my belly, and trying to put my own socks and shoes on is not only painful, but a job I have to outsource many a day. This is it, the end is barreling toward me. I had the realization the other day that I could give birth in just 10 weeks with my midwives (36 weeks is the cut-off, before then is considered premature). That is just crazy. And it set my mind racing with endless lists of things still to be done before this little peach arrives. This is not helping my insomnia.

The nursery is STILL not done on account of yet another list of unforeseeable hiccups in the reno project. This fact is killing me softly. The house is piling up with baby gear and my nesting hormones are relentless. Please Universe, stop putting obstacles in our way so I can get this frickin’ room done!!! I will say, though, that I am pretty excited about the design I’ve put together for the room. More on that soon.

I cannot say how accurate mother’s intuition is, but I do know that I feel it all the time. I’ve mentioned that I often feel like I know so much about this baby and her personality already. I get the sense that she is so ready to live life. She constantly remains at the bottom of my uterus, as close as possible to her exit route. I can sense her independence even though she’s still completely reliant on me at the moment. She is strong and has an incredible presence about her. She is stubborn. She knows what she wants. She is driven.

As is evident from my completely transition-less writing today, my mind has become a scattered mess of thoughts punctuated with passing anxieties. Everything feels so urgent at this point, everything. I realize that is biology doing its thing, coaxing me to prepare for this monumental event, but that fact doesn’t erase the urgency. I’ve also been worrying that the heightened sense of urgency coupled with baby girl’s zeal to live life means she’s coming early. Gulp. Of course, that could also be because my sister-in-law put that idea in my head, followed by her 3-year-old prophet-of-a-daughter (the same one who told me I was pregnant the day after I conceived) told me the baby was going to come out now (then again, she also told me the baby would be born April 27th at night). I suppose only time will tell, so in the meantime I’m going to go attack my house with non-toxic furniture polish and make about a billion lists of to-dos, color-coded by priority level.