Paul and I stepped foot into the hospital I'll be delivering at for the first time last weekend when we took a tour of the maternity ward.
Things are starting to get real.
Tours are held only the first Sunday of each month, which means this was our last chance since Paul runs the New York City Marathon the first Sunday of November. Now or never; the last chances are coming much more quickly now.
The tour, of course, covered all of the basics -- where to go when you first get to the hospital, what the birthing rooms look like (which freaked me out about as much as anything ever has) and where I'll be staying for the following two days if everything goes well.
We even got a peak into the room where the newborns were staying, which almost made me cry. The Diane I knew a year ago would've laughed at the soon-to-be moms who teared up at the sight of tiny infants. What's happening to me?!
As the baby's taking up more of my space and making it harder for me to breath everyday, I'm anxious for her to make her grand entrance. Although for her own sake, I hope she waits at least a few more weeks. But please, please PLEASE not until December.