This is the most conflicting post I’ll ever blurt out. Here I am, uber pregnant, it’s been hot - like sickly hot, the baby has dropped, I’m cruising around 1cm dilated, I’ve got just a couple of weeks left before I hit that so-called due date (after all it’s just a guess). So how do I feel? Like most women, a big part of me is ready, over it, done, stick a fork in me.

Then there’s this other shred of me, this tiny little piece of me that’s clinging on to these last moments where my family is only us three. Hurry up, get this baby out of me… or hold on, let me shower my sweet daughter with every ounce of my attention for just a little bit longer.

Mind you this is one sided. My daughter’s ready. She’s been asking me for months, “Am I big sister yet?” if I say, “Not yet but soon.” she get’s annoyed, “Well… I’m a little bit a big sister!” she’ll argue, ok honey, you win. She’s ready to be not so much the object of my affection and attention. Or at least she thinks she is. She certainly acts like she’s sick of me telling her how gorgeous and brilliant she is, taking any second I can to smother her with love. Enough mama, play with me but quit with the mama crap already.

Sigh.