The Last Time

Remember the night my water broke while I blogged?

That night while packing my bags for the hospital and looking around my house, I wondered if earlier that day I had experienced all my "lasts" that day without even knowing it.

The last time I left my house without a diaper bag.
The last time I drove in to work and didn't have a stroller.
The last evening I had home alone with Josh.
For.ev.er.

When they admitted me to the hospital and told me "you'll be having this baby in the next 24 hours" it was even more strange. How exactly did all of that happen with so little fan-fare?

Some people schedule their babies (induction, c-section, what have you) and it just seemed so odd to not celebrate with one last hoorah.

Eating Wendy's in the parking lot (because the dining room was closed and truth-be-told I wasn't getting my soggy-pantsed-self out of the car for anything but Dr. Man.) was hardly the final meal I thought it would be. However, it was delicious.

Anyway, I like to pay attention to The Last Time because of that.

Like the last time I called in sick to work. Because I was having a baby instead of going to work that day.
Or the last time I played with just one baby in the snow, because it was March and by the next time it snowed  we'd be 4 instead of 3.

Right this second I'm thinking about the last time I "emptied my bladder" and while it's only for 2 or 3 hours, it feels like it's for the rest of all time. Because that giant mug of water is sitting on my desk taunting me. I've never hated my "you had a baby" mug until now.

Today is the ultrasound. The big ultrasound. The one where they give me a video of my adorable child. The one where they check all the parts to make sure they're all where they should be. The one where Lady Ultrasound says "looks perfect" at least 200 times. The one where I spend all of that magical and priceless time focusing on my kegals so as not to pee my pants on her table and have to ask Josh to show me all the cool stuff later. That ultrasound.

Wish me luck!