Unless Caleb decides to make a dramatic 11th hour arrival today, it looks as though he's gonna let his due date come and go.
All weekend, so far, I've been barely able to contain my frustration. I'm doing my best to be as patient and accepting as possible, but it's not easy. I don't want to just sit around and wait, so we've been trying to keep busy with small activities relatively close to home, but while it's nice to keep busy, everywhere I go, I get asked questions and statements like, "When are you due? How do you feel? Wow, a full 40 weeks! You must be really uncomfortable right now! Oh, that baby is gonna be at least an 8 pounder!" This is from everyone: Neighbors, the grounds/maintenance guy of our community, strangers at the pool, a waitress at a restaurant, etc.
It makes me want to stay inside, in communicado.
Oh well, I know there is an end in sight: Even if he doesn't come on his own, by the end of the week, he's getting an eviction notice, and he'll have to move on out. This time next weekend, I know he'll be here. Patience, grasshopper Jess, patience.