Eviction Notice

Dearest Ruby Mae,

I love you.  I really do.  In fact, I love you so much, that I'd actually like to see your face, and hold you in my arms.  It's time.  Time to come out.  Time to exit.  Head on down, love.

Yes, I'm technically 39 weeks and you could decide to continue baking for seven to 14 days.  Believe me, people keep reminding me of that.  But, sweet Ruby, I beg of you - do not attempt that.  It won't be fun for anyone involved.  You're getting bigger, and what's worse - I'm getting bigger... and possibly more emotional.  Maybe.  You see, your big brothers both entered the world at 36 weeks, so even though it's completely crazy and irrational (see, I admit it!) - I tend to feel "overdue" by the time I'm in my 37th week.  So, everyday since then, I think "Today might be the day!"  And I go to bed weary, and wake up even more upset that nothing happened in the night.

I was the same way with your big sister, and I vowed I wouldn't do this to myself mentally the next time.  But, here I am.  Anxious to see you.  Wondering why you're still on the inside.  Your sister's labor started four days after I hit 39 weeks, and I do not intend to hold you in any longer than that.  You have been warned.

My mind is consumed with thinking about you and when you will arrive.  I wonder if my water will break first, as it did with Joel and Zoe.  You're already proving to be more like Gabriel, both of you giving me false starts with timeable, painful contractions - leading me to think I was about to meet you, only to be let down once everything just stopped.

So, here's your notice:  You must pack your things and vacate the premises.

Smuggling watermelons?
Pictures taken at 38 weeks.  No energy to take a new picture for today.

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