Honestly.
12 days past the due date. How am I supposed to stay relaxed and labor friendly as we face week 43? I can't clean the fridge out right now. Sure, I started the project, and there are antique jars of salsa and petrified spaghetti sauce staring at me from the counter, but I just can't seem to finish the job. Nor can I muster the strength to sweep Toivo's hair off the floor for the 614th time this week. I can genuinely attest to the fact (Josh can, too) that I have personified nesting for the last 4+ weeks. I am running out of whatever it is that has kept me going.
BUT of course, there's another part of me that is so filled with hope and excitement that I want to cry. And I do. Sigh. All a part of this mysterious journey.
