Last week I was 39/40 weeks pregnant.

This week I am 40/41 weeks pregnant.

Last week I cleaned my kitchen and did laundry every day just in case I went into labour; I didn't want to come home to a mess.

This week I'm tempting fate and leaving dirty dishes in the sink and damp towels piled on the bathroom floor.

Last week I had the most stereotypical pregnant lady Costco shop where I wheeled my cart through the checkout with just the following items:
- a tower fan
- a watermelon the size of a large toddler
- 5 litres of lemonade
- a giant bag of Chicago mix popcorn
- the 40-pack of assorted popsicles

This week I am employing the buddy system, not just in case I go into labour in the freezer section, but also to keep me from buying all the tower fans.

Last week was Mother's Day, then my cancerversary, then my nephew's birthday, then Shawn's birthday.

This week the only thing Lady Baby's arrival could interfere with is Grady's kindergarten orientation (which is odd, seeing as Grady is still an infant and I'm not sure how they expect an infant to be able to attend kindergarten).

Last week I was eating pineapple and listening to fun music to try to get labour going.

This week I am trudging up and down my stairs 30 times in a row until my lower back is screaming in protest, and googling where to buy castor oil.

Last week I felt a rush of anticipation at every squeeze.

This week I have had so many contractions, for so many straight hours, and then had everything stop completely for hours on end, that I have given up all hope of ever giving birth. I will be pregnant forever. They'll write textbooks about me. I will be a medical marvel.

Last week I was excited.

This week I am surviving.