Right before B took this picture, I started packing my hospital bag. I honestly can’t believe it. All the websites say to do it now, so I am. I went and bought the nursing bras, nursing pads and a comfy nightie (because let’s face it, half the ones I have are super old and I do not want to be seen in public with them on). I still haven’t found a “coming home” outfit for Sheffield — I’m halfway torn on this concept anyway. I mean, does he need to look all fancy for his trip down to the car? I don’t want to spend $50 on some monogrammed onesie thing — I just don’t.
I just felt half of the South shift with that statement.
The thing is — it’s just not very “us.” The concept of an expensive outfit that’s sole purpose is just to wear from the hospital to the house. I mean, can’t I put him in his Packers onesie and hat and call it a day? (Thanks Roberta!)
So, here we are. 6 weeks to go. I feel like I’m getting a tad more snarky as the weeks go on — Can I say that I’m really over it, and I just want to meet my little guy? It’s hot — I’m swelling really bad — I get 3-4 hours of sleep on a good night — heartburn is starting to be an issue, and I want a glass of wine. I’m just ready to hold him in my arms and read to him and sing to him and smell that sweet head.
I know that wasn’t much of an update, but I can say that they are all honest and true feelings. And I told myself that if I was going to keep up with the pregnancy on the blog, that I was going to be as honest as I could, so if Sheffield ever wants to read them, he can be like, “Oh yeah, that’s definitely my mom.”
And Sheffield, if you are reading this a million years later — I still wouldn’t trade it for anything.