Saturday!

It is August. I HAVE MADE IT TO AUGUST. The month of my due date.

Today is Monday, and my doctor has told me I can let this puppy rip any time after Saturday. Why Saturday, you ask? Because that gives us both (me and my doc) a chance to go out Friday night, get crunked, recover from our hangovers and get down to the business of birthin' by Saturday afternoon.

Okay, no. Though that sounds fun, because 1) I could really use a drink, and 2) I actually adore my doctor and think under different circumstances we could be great friends. Even suspect I might have unconsciously willed my birth control to fail just for the opportunity to hang out with her for nine more months.

In fact, Saturday is the day this baby graduates from a premature, 36-week old infant likely to require NICU (a la Max) to a 37-week, full-term baby unlikely to experience any serious complications. And the date after which, as my wise doctor remarked, "pregnancy becomes over-rated."

See why I love her?

Now, I am not trying to rush things, despite the fact that I am no longer enjoying the miracle of life within. As I mentioned above, it is August, and if you are alive in the world then your Facebook feed is filled with competitive status updates about the weather and the humidity and OMG THE HEAT! THE GODDAMN HEAT!

A glorious time to be nine months pregnant!

And if the heat doesn't get you, know what will? PUPPP!

What's PUPPP, you ask? Google it. Actually, the images might gross you out, so let me just tell you. It stands for "Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plagues of Pregnancy." Doesn't that sound nice? It affects a whopping one percent of pregnancies, so it stands to reason that I'd get it. In essence, it's a heinous case of pregnancy-induced hives that start on your belly and spread, akin I suppose to a naked, pregnant role in a patch of poison ivy. No one knows the cause (though some suspect an allergy to male fetal DNA. STOP LAUGHING), and the only cure is to give birth.

Still going? Ok...know what ELSE might get you? Giving yourself twice-daily injections into your swollen, itchy, hive-covered pregnant belly. You know, because you have that blood disorder that affects two percent of the human population. Isn't it nice to be so special and unique? And who knew you could get bruises on TOP of rashes? Double Rainbow!

So yeah, like I said, it's not that I'm in any HURRY to deliver. I want a healthy, full-term, take-home baby boy. I really, really do.

But OH MY GOD SATURDAY CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH.

Saturday!