I'm obsessing. Am I obsessing? Maybe I am obsessing. But I suppose if you're going to obsess over anything in life, the impending birth of your children is probably the one that's excused and ok. Still, I wish I could make some greater use of this "rest time" I have before my due date and say, start my own multi-million-dollar business or enroll in business school or write the great American novel or save the world... or something.

Instead I'm constantly cleaning the house to make sure it's in tip-top shape before I have to go to the hospital, investigating the evil Internet, and well, just reading books and watching movies. Not much else. Meanwhile my head is obsessing in the background, incessantly thinking about the terrible warnings I've gotten from friends who tell me how horrific and hard this is going to be (thanks guys), how tired I will feel, how difficult marriage will become, how undesirable the lifestyle is, and how I need to understand that I will be entering "survival mode" where I will remain for months and months. Oh and maybe just maybe I will find the time to fall in love with the babies. They usually throw that one in at the end, for good measure.

Let's see what happens. I swear I will be honest about it once we're in it. I really will. But I am a little resentful of the consistently negative reviews I've heard about parenthood, especially considering what we went through to get here (3 years and 8 doctors), what we have had to and will continue to sacrifice ($$, time, travel, freedom, etc.), and where we were exactly one year ago (in the midst of radiation treatment for cancer). Could it really be as bad as they say?

Despite the fact that Baby B is constantly kicking me in the ribs, pushing her little legs against my stomach, and Baby A is torturing me with incessant hiccups, not to mention I have gained more than 40 lbs. I have to lose in 2 months or I'll die, I am striving to experience these last few days of pregnancy in a state of wonder and amazement that I have 2 almost fully formed humans living inside me, and that truly, my body has been exceptionally efficient at doing what it needed to do to get them here. I likely will never have this experience again. It's kind of sad, really. A friend of mine told me the other day that she wishes she could be pregnant again, just for a day. She misses it. That feeling that you're not alone, ever, you have a person/people with you every second of the day and you're sustaining them 100% - no one else can see them, feel them, hold them, just me. That's pretty cool. Maybe I'll miss it too. Hard to imagine, but I'd believe it.