The final countdown

Okay. I officially have three weeks left. This is fantabulous news...and yet, I'm kind of panicking--trying to convince myself that I will be okay, that I won't have to have an emergency c-section, (which, through reading I found out that they cut you vertically, instead of horizontally. And so, not only do you deal with the trauma of scary baby issues, but you are also scarred in a way that is irreversible), that my water won't break in an inconvenient place or time, and, most importantly, the baby will be healthy. However, not TOO healthy....because Cole was a big boy, and if Sydney continues at the going rate of both my previous babies, that would put her close to twelve pounds. And that's terrifying. Anyone that says differently can trade places with me during her birth. (Also, this post is really only for the voyeuristic...it's going to be more like a journal entry than anything else, and because this is my blog, I can do that).
I've got everything I need. I've been lucky enough to have people look out for me and make sure that we are ready for this kid that we weren't planning on. However, it's still scary. Baby number three, and it's still scary. Not wake-me-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-knowing-I-can-never-go-back scary like having Riley was, but until Sydney is in my arms with all ten fingers and toes and healthy, I'll just be worried and stressed. Anyway, I'm torn all day long, each day between wanting this baby OUT, to hoping she stays as long as possible, and is getting all the extras she needs to be ready. I know, boring for the average reader, but certainly makes for serious, and continuous, hormone fluctuations.
Also, the guilt is already getting to me. Until I actually became a mother, I had no idea what guilt was. And, hello, I'm Mormon. Everything is about guilt. I didn't give up my caffeine addiction throughout my pregnancy. I tried, but I couldn't. So I hope I didn't completely ruin my unborn child's nervous system. If I did, I'm going to feel REALLY bad, and Jeff's going to be really upset with me. I console myself a little by my addiction not being crack, however, if anything is wrong at all...I'll just KNOW it's because of all the Diet Mountain Dews.
Jeff and I have been watching seasons of Reno 911 each night, and this has actually helped me turn my attention to other things--in a "it could always be worse" way. (BTW, very funny show...but not for the easily offended). It kind of makes me think about how the Buffalo, WY police department would be...if it were more culturally diverse. I have a severe love for trashy people; they make me feel right at home. So while watching these episodes, I've felt more calm and serene...and occasionally grossed out. It's a lot like South Park to me, in that it's so wrong, that they get it right.
Anyway, I know I go off on how terrible pregnancy is, and how much I hate it. And all the negatives that go along with getting continually fatter and grosser and slower and more tired, but I'm finally at the stage where I can say, "It's really worth it". Yes, I still have severe heartburn and yes, I still wish I could sleep without peeing twelve times a night, and yes, I seriously dream about being able to breathe without feeling like I'm going to vomit at the same time. BUT, I wouldn't change having kids for anything. Family life suits me perfectly. I can't imagine life without my babies, and I can't wait for Sydney--even though I'm scared to death. I mean, she can't be any worse than what I already have to put up with, right? I'm holding to that thought.