30 weeks

This morning I woke up to my baby squirming inside of me. Good morning, little one. Only 10 weeks until we meet.

My sister will be annoyed by the title of this post. When I told her today that I was 30 weeks pregnant and excited about it, she wasn't enthusiastic. She told me that I worry too much about milestones, that I have no reason to expect that my baby wouldn't be born full-term.

And she's right, of course. My pregnancy has passed without any major hitches. My prenatal appointments are about 30 seconds long. The worst things that have happened are the CPC (which was a major nothing) and occasionally hurling without a toothbrush on me.

So why did I wake up so happy this morning? Why did I find myself thinking, "OK, now we've got to make it to 32 weeks."

1. I've always been more-than-slightly anxious.
2. It's the runner mentality ("OK, two more miles until the next water station. Two more miles after that, and I get a GU pack").
3. My path to conception has made me skeptical that my body works correctly.

The truth is, until the baby is born healthy (and she will be), I'll be holding my breath. That's not to say that I'm not loving pregnancy. I love feeling her move. I love preparing the nursery. I love ready about parenting and birth, and I'm stoked for labor. And I love how I look, a ball of a belly under cute maternity clothes.

Still, I wouldn't mind fast-forwarding to April and holding our baby. The thing is, those of us lucky enough to get pregnant post-infertility are usually in the same boat--thrown straight from months of traumatic treatments into pregnancy. There's typically not a healing period in between. Having spent over three times as long trying to conceive than I will have spent pregnant, I think I've still got some healing to do.

The idea of neither trying to conceive nor being pregnant seems so bizarre, but damn, I can't wait. In that spirit, we ordered a jogging stroller today--the BOB Revolution. I have a huge smile on my face, thinking of the autumn, my baby bouncing happily as we run through our neighborhood. And I'll be able to push my body all I want, because everything I need and love will be on the outside.

(Lots more to write about, and lots of comments I need to leave . . . )