The happy 37 week post

I woke up this morning signing, “I am the champion my friend … dun dun dun … and I’ll keep on fighting ‘till the end!”
37 weeks.
Full term.
Do you know what this means!?!?!?!

Little man could bust out any day now and he would be perfectly fine.
I admittedly had a whole different post written for today, peppered with a few frustrated explatives. You might have noticed I quit posting weekly belly pics. To me, it’s just become one more week of painful fat cow disease blown out of proportion by raging hormones. Sorry for the emotional black eyes, Dave.
If you are brave, you can read it here. But then I got this in the mail for our Brooklyn-dwelling friends the Greers.

I remember walking the halls once with their baby girl in Newcastle, just a few months old. Amid the crying and nodding off to sleep, I looked at her little face and thought, “hmm, maybe one day…”
Luke could barely form full sentences, but there was this light in his eyes that could make anyone around him feel happy.
Once upon a time, they were little too. Now they are drawing me treasure maps, running around New York like they own the place and (I’m sure) sassing their momma.
So maybe I can put up with the stretch marks, swollen ankles, hormones in a blind rage, and wince-inducing waddles for a few more days. Before I know it, he’s going to be reading “But Not The Hippopotamus” to me.
Thank you Rob, Michelle, Luke and Harper for the sweet gifts. Your friendship means more than you know 🙂