I’m officially past my due date. The baby is late.

It shouldn’t surprise me - Bean was 10 days late and who knows when Little Man would have come if I hadn’t been leaking fluid and necessitated an induction. But now I’m ridiculously pregnant. As in, I get looks of pity from strangers as I walk waddle around town in my frumpy end-of-the-pregnancy-so-this-is-all-I-can-wear clothes. And flip-flops. With bad hair and no makeup, because what’s the point?

I’ve stopped paying attention to the contractions. They were coming every 4 minutes for a while today. But then they stopped. Just like they always do. Maybe tomorrow. (As I’ve said every day for weeks now…) But with every passing day, the chances get better - or so I tell myself. This kid can’t stay in my belly forever. He’ll have to go to college one day…