No, I'm not superstitious, well, not much anyway. It is just that today is exactly one week before my darling daughter will be 18. It's sneaking up on me, one freaking day at a time.
I thought this would be a good day to share some pregnancy memories, since we are officially in the countdown. Mo was due July 14th, but did her Momma a favor and came three and a half weeks early. Trust me, I was done being pregnant, done feeling like a whale, done not being able to groom my own girlie bits. I was just done, but before we get there, lets find some happy memories.
When I was seven weeks pregnant I wrote a prediction in my pregnancy diary:
" I think you are a girl who looks like Daddy and has Mommy's disposition and that you will be born June 19th. We'll see!"
I was off by five hours and one minute, the rest is true.
Even when I was pregnant Mo was a pain in my ass. By eleven weeks my butt hurt so bad I could hardly get out of bed. The doctor just laughed and said it was the way she was laying and to get used to it. I hated him.
I went into labor early and often, which I found they stopped by using liquid bitch in an IV. The only thing I remember about that is wishing everyone was dead. Yes, I was a joy each and every time that happened.
* Yes Mo's Dad always cut my head off in pictures.