I'm back! And I'm still pregnant.

Honestly, nine months is just an absurd amount of time to wait for a baby to be made. One might surmise that over the course of hundreds of thousands of years, evolution could render the nine-month gestational period more streamlined and more efficient, and, as a result, whittle it down to something like twelve weeks. Right?
I mean, NINE MONTHS. That's three-quarters of a year! It was early summer when I first learned that I had been successfully knocked up. Now it's late winter, for Christ's sake. And we're into 2006. And I'm STILL pregnant. It's been an ETERNITY.
Of course, I'm grateful the baby has not come prematurely. And I'm certainly hoping she doesn't sneak out before March 15th, my estimated due date. It's just that I'm getting pretty tired of being preggers. I'm at the point where I entertain lurid, slow-motion fantasies of drinking icy margaritas and fully caffeinated coffee. And working out! Strange as it sounds coming from a lazy ass like myself, I miss exercise. I mean, I can take walks and do some limited stretching at this point, but that's about it. I'm far too huge and ungainly to do anything like yoga or Pilates, never mind a short jog now and then.
But enough with the complaining. I'm thrilled that in six-ish weeks, Maya will make her debut and fill S and me with the kind of intense love that will change us forever, for the better. I know the joy we will feel is unimaginable at this point, but just knowing it's coming is exilharating! And we just can't wait to share so much with her: smooches, hugs, music, stories, laughter.
We're not so naive that we're unaware of all the hard work, sleep deprivation, frustration, and feelings of self-doubt that will present themselves along with our new baby, but they do seem a small price to pay for the privelege of raising a child.
All right then, that's it for now...