Ding. All Done.

I am ready to meet this kid. And sick of being pregnant. I think, considering I'm 37w, 2d, this isn't unexpected news.

I've reached the stage where everything is harder to do - I can't tie my shoes without sounding like I'm in the final stages of running a 10K, can't get up and down easily, can't do more than a flight of stairs without pausing...

I'm tired of commuting. Or, really, of metro. The MARC train is fine as I take the same trains every day. The conductors know me and will find me a seat. They ask how I'm feeling and show me pictures of their kids and grandkids. On the other hand, metro is nightmare. It is overcrowded, what with tourist season and the Nationals starting to play. People seem to be under the impression that my belly is collapsible and will try to squeeze themselves onto the train. Which leads to me yelling.

I'm having more frequent Braxton Hicks now. My midwife assures me all is well and that they are caused by the baby being so very, very low. She's turned a bit, from full-on posterior (that is facing up, with her back against mine) to facing my left hip. This is excellent as posterior babies can make for harder labor.

The midwife guesstimated that I'll deliver near to on-time, given Ruth's position. I hope she's right.

In the interim, I'm distracting myself with trips to awesome local businesses.