fewer than 48 hours

It’s the name of my new movie…

and suddenly I discovered why it is better that few people know the exact date and time of birth plans.

I went to work today against everyone’s advice. Coworkers, that is. I had work to complete to make sure my classes run smoothly and that I actually want to come back when my too brief maternity leave is up.

Obviously if there were an option, I’d have propped my feet up at home with the last of my French vanilla ice cream and chilled the day away. Instead, I rushed in to the job to finish (begin!!!) lesson plans for my 10th graders and to meet my substitute for a face to face.

It seems like every colleague I passed expected my water to break as I passed them and had horrible visions of birthing a baby in the Panther Den. Yeah, right. No one remembers that Friday marks exactly 37 weeks along… so technically, MYD is 3 weeks early. I could have been offended by the

“I’m surprised to see you;” “Wow, didn’t expect you’d come in;” “What are you doing here?” and “Go home; don’t stay too long!”

I heard all day. So this was my last day at work before our big day, and I’m not sure if the concern was in love or fear of somehow catching the pregnancy virus that is going around the building. Yep, I’m huge… but nothing is swollen and I thought I looked pretty cute in my dress and with my freshly pressed hair. They should be showering me with “glow” comments and wishing me well.

I sure better get a warmer reception when I return, or I’ll know the commentary and advice was not from concern for the health of this pregnancy…

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