99 bottles of Maalox on the wall.....

This morning, as my husband changed the gestational age on the white board in my room from '30 4/7' to '30 5/7', I was happily reminded that Saturday is nearly here, and that means another full week closer to the big day. This little ritual is one of the first things that happens every morning, and if we forget a day, that just means it's even more satisfying to skip up to the next number, like we played hooky on a day here. What struck me this morning though, as I'm looking forward to replacing the '0' with a '1', is that come Saturday, I'll have the remainder of my time here in nice little 3 week increments. 3 weeks from Saturday and I'll be at 34 weeks...the benchmark the doctors set as when they think I could safely deliver...3 weeks after that and I'm at 37 weeks, the benchmark of being considered full term...and another 3 weeks after that and I'm at 40 weeks, which is my due date. I like this little layout, because seeing '31' on my makeshift calendar can be just as daunting as when I was first admitted and '24' was written in the blue ink of a dried out marker. But instead of looking down the corridor of time and seeing 9 weeks stretched out before me, I can just peek around the corner and see each benchmark a short 3 weeks or less away from where I'm standing (make that sitting). It definitely makes my time here seem more bearable, and each week seem like much more of an accomplishment. Like my hubby reminded me this morning, thinking I have a whole 9 weeks left is unrealistic, because there is so much that can happen within those weeks to change everything. One ultrasound, one monitering, one night of cramping, and I could be facing a delivery date that's a lot closer. Ofcourse we're all hoping that 9 weeks is what I end up spending here, but 3 weeks is a heck of a lot easier to swallow, and at the end of each 3 week chunk, I can look back and say 'that wasn't so bad' and tell myself doing it again is a piece of cake. And what I like most about it, is that is provides a nice sense of urgency, a renewed sense of purpose, inspiration to get my reading and crafts and studying and writing done, instead of just letting monotonous days stack up. I remember flying to Africa, and on the way thinking,' wow, I'm going to be back on a plane heading the other direction before I know it'....and sure enough, once I was headed home the 2 months I spent there seemed to have slipped by in the blink of an eye. It's comforting that these days spent here, while being burned into my memory, will become completely irrelevent and seem much smaller the moment I'm holding my son.

So, here's to the next 3 weeks!!