38 and a half weeks

It's been 38 and a half weeks since my baby came out.

And he was only in for 38 and a half weeks.

Remember how long 38 and a half weeks can be? Long.

Life after pregnancy is a lovely thing.

I find myself thankful for the ability to shuffle down the aisle at church without banging someone in the head with my giant belly.

I also wake up after sleeping though the entire night and praise my bladder's ability to hold it all night.

And then I curse because really my bladder will never be the same.

Every now and again I realize that it's been 38 and a half weeks since I puked. And 38 and a half weeks since I was home alone. And 38 and a half weeks since I wore those clothes. And 38 and a half weeks since I waddled. (Excluding last week's "too much dinner" waddle.....)

But then the missing it begins. I miss being pregnant. I want to carry my belly around because I know something precious is in there. I want people to look at me and get excited. I want to memorize a date in the future because it's the first thing I have to tell everyone I know. "We're due October 20th." I'm relatively certain I said it 10,000 times in 9 months. I even miss Dr. Man and his lovely nurses. I miss laying on the bed watching my belly hoping it would move. I miss everybody understanding why I wore flip flops. I miss buying new things because we needed them. I miss following his growth and hearing his heartbeat. I miss staring at blurry pictures of an ultrasound-alien-baby. I miss knowing that my body was doing something amazing every second of every day. There are plenty of things I don't miss, but I do miss the excitement and the miracle that pregnancy is.

But oh how I love my 38 and a half week old baby.

He's an angel.

And I don't have to miss him, because I'm lucky enough to be with him all day every day.

What a great 38 and a half weeks it has been.