35 is the magic number

As of today, we have 35 weeks behind us, and 35 DAYS to go (and 27 days until my 35th birthday, which isn't quite as significant, but I am committed to the 35 theme today). Days. Count the weeks on one hand. And that is probably best case scenario. We could be meeting Soup in the next few weeks if you are the type that listens to doctors. It is getting to the point where each morning I wake up and repeat the date in my head to see how it sounds as a birthday. I always liked the sound of my birthday (May the fourth, because it sounds like "may the force") and don't want her stuck with some lame sounding birthday. I just came very close to giving an example of a date in the near future that I thought sounded lame, and then I realized there would be no better way to guarantee she was born on that day than to write about it here and it forever be documented on the internet that her Mom thought that day was lame, so I resisted. At least we are past April fool's day. The little lady's major organs are all systems go ("nearly complete"). She is now the size of a honeydew melon (not to be confused with last week's cantaloupe), is around 5.25 pounds and 18 inches long. The kidneys and liver are fully functional and she can now process waste. Good for her. That makes one of us.

Currently one of two short sleeved maternity shirts I own. Better get used to it.