• AUTHOR: // CATEGORY: 3rd Trimester, In the Womb, Thoughts

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    Week 39 and only 7 days to go!!

    Although, statistically speaking, only 5% of babies arrive on time. 75% usually arrive late and the remaining 20% early. So, it’s hard to know just how he’s keeping time exactly. Whether he’s going by Daylight Savings, Greenwich Meantime or my wife’s biological clock. It would make everything so much easier if he could just schedule something in, so we can adjust ourselves accordingly. It’s like receiving a package from TOLL DIRECT, when they ring you before hand and say, “your package will be delivered sometime between June 16 and July 4th…between the hours of 9am and 11pm.” Oh, great…perfect!

    On top of that, my lovely wife has battled a dreadful cold, all week. Prepping us both for sleep deprivation. Up all night coughing, standing over the laundry basket in case she coughs a little too hard…and shoots the little tacker out!

    (Okay, that may not exactly be true) BUT…she did dream last night that she was actually having the baby and she could see the head sticking out! We had to drive to the hospital while it called out directions from the GPS! (Okay, once again, I made up the part about the GPS)…BUT…she did dream it was coming and had to try and hold it back in.

    He’s getting very active now, and because he’s getting bigger every day, whenever he moves around inside my wife’s belly, it’s like it moves her whole body.

    Which makes me wonder about how cool it would be if babies could actually control your entire body when they’re in the womb. Kind of like Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) inside her hydraulic exoskeleton in the movie, Aliens.

    Imagine your baby sitting in the driver’s seat in your belly, with his arms and legs controlling your arms and legs. Making you move around the room…or drive the car “hey look ma, I’m driving!” Opening and closing cupboards, throttling your husband’s throat for writing things about you in his blog…


    Ripley: “Get away from her, you bi#@h!” – translation: “It’s not me honey, it’s the baby!”

    But maybe that’s just my overactive imagination running overtime. But this close to the end, it’s hard not to think about anything else.

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