I am going insane waiting for The Baby Vohra. The actual due date is still more than a week away, but since Saajan's birth, I keep hoping we're going to get an early surprise. I'm praying for it. I dunno why. We've waiting so long, so another week really shouldn't be a big deal, but I've reached some sort of invisible threshold at which point I am totally devoid of patience. These days, whenever Neha grimaces or expresses any sort of discomfort, I secretly hope she's having contractions. Actually there is nothing secret about it. I ask her if she's having contractions, and get pissed off when she reports that she isn't. And at night, when Neha gets up to go to the bathroom (which happens no less than 10 times - she is currently on the schedule of an 80-year old man), I pray that her water has broken. But alas, my hopes remain unfulfilled. Neha still looks like Fudgie The Whale.
We had another weekly doctor's appointment yesterday. I really get my hopes up at these appointments. I keep thinking the doctor will check everything out and announce "well, no time to head to the delivery room! We'll just have to deliver the baby right here!" But that hasn't happened yet. After yesterday's appointment, he told us that he expected the baby right around the 28th, the predicted date of delivery, and that was "fine." So, um, does it matter that I didn't think it's fine? That I am desperately awaiting the arrival of my new friend, and I cannot take it any longer?
If it did matter, the doctor didn't show it. In fact, he seemed remarkably content. In fact, in doing his examination, he was able to touch the baby's head. When he did, Neha's stomach moved. "Isn't that cool?" he asked.
Jesus. I'm sitting here waiting to meet The Baby Vohra, totally flustered and unable to think of anything else, and our doctor is doing parlor tricks.
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