Yes, today marks Noah’s Ark Day. Officially 40 days and 40 nights until the due date of little “Twitchy”, as projected by the lovely sonogram-ologist in that first trimester.
The closer the date comes, the further it gets.
A very wise woman I know theorized, the only way you’d get the pregnant women to the hospital is to make sure she feels as miserable as they do by 9 months.
So I’ll take two Tylenol, two edema socks, two glasses of red wine, and call two friends who’ve been here to talk me down off the ledge when the Braxton Hicks contractions put me on the couch the next time. Send sympathy and warm wishes to my Facebook page please.