I am, it turns out, just really good at baking babies. They are comfy in me. However, I am not comfy with them in me.
Tell me that baby isn't ready to come out! Cause he's not. He's sittin' pretty on a fine piece of real estate and he a'int budgin'. He's a squatter. He's still floating around in that belly of mine like he's lounging on a beachside hammock in the hot tropical sunshine.
Dang it. My doc says he's nowhere near ready to come out. At least with babies, they can change their minds at the last minute! He's got 10 more days, then he'll be evicted. I'd really rather he change his mind on his own though, so send me some major labour vibes over the next 9 days, OK?!?!?!
Baby, I know I am a pretty good baby baker. But you are DONE, baby. Done. Or is it me that's done?
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