At the time I’m writing this, mythical wife has passed the 36-week mark, and we’re nearly two weeks past the point in which my first was born early.  Needless to say, despite the fact that pregnancies are typically measured in 40-week events, a lot of things can happen in just less than two of them, especially towards the tail end of them.

Sure, no two pregnancies are ever the same as most moms will attest to, but at the same time, there are a lot of commonalities between them as well.  Regardless, since we’re into uncharted territory this time around, there are some stark noticeable differences between the first time and the current.

Mostly insomnia, but also the increasing strain of a growing entity the size of a butternut squash puts on mythical wife’s body, and she’s basically tipping past the point of relief that we’ve made it past 34.5 weeks, to getting eager to serve eviction papers to our little tenant living rent-free.

Despite our general preparation and understanding that baby #2 is on the way, I don’t think it’s really going to sink in entirely, until she’s actually arrived.  When I think about life as it is right now, as a one-child household, and the general routine that’s been carved out, it does make me a little nervous to when we hit the point where #2 arrives and then it’s back to the drawing board of figuring out how each and every day is going to go afterward.  Not that I feel any sort of dread and apprehension at the addition to the famiry, but it’s definitely going to be a challenge when everything is thrown into chaos once again.

But until then, it’s taking everything a day at a time until we’re out of days before the scheduled arrival, with clenched buttholes and constant status checks.  My own dad is convinced that we’ll make it all the way to the scheduled date, but I think mythical wife would rather slit her wrists than wait that much longer, but at the same thing if things show up sooner, then whew, here comes the pandemonium.