Just be patient. Officially the most annoying phrase in English right now. I don’t want to be patient; I want what I want and I want it now! I’m not even asking for much. All I want is to get this baby out of me.

I’m tired of being pregnant. At 40 weeks, my body is heavy (hitting 100kg seems like a very real prospect right now), I’m waddling all over the place, nursing a flu from hell, I’m not sleeping well, my nose is blocked so I have to sleep with my mouth open to breathe, causing me to drool on my bedding and get drool all over my face in the process, turning is a trial, sitting up is an exercise in clumsiness, and I have given up trying to look graceful.

Plus I’m hormonal AF and it’s making me a Petty Betty. Yesterday My Lover had to restrain me from sharing my very candid thoughts on a certain firm and outing them to KRA via Twitter, in addition to vandalizing their signage and returning some of their property in tiny little pieces. I don’t feel like speaking to certain people because they’re irritating TF out of me and having to hold a conversation with them feels like torture. This baby is really doing a number on me!

Today, Friday 30^th June 2017, is officially D-day. According to my doctor, the baby should arrive today, but may or may not decide to chill in there for another two weeks. People are telling me to chill and just be patient; that the baby will come when ready. Guys are checking up on me like: the baby isn’t here yet? You’re sure you’re not overdue? You look like you’re about to pop. Kwani how long are you going to be pregnant for? Others are reading into little things I’m sharing on IG and Snapchat and giving me hope, telling me the flu is a sure sign of early labour, and that the little bursts of energy are another sign.

A small part of me wants to believe them, but the other part of me is telling me to stop looking for every little sign and let things be. I’ve been trying to really “listen” to my body for signs of labour – the contractions, wondering whether my water is about to break (and finding out that I just needed to pee), checking for that weird discharge. I’m tired of listening though, so I’ve decided to filanga free and just go about my days and wait to be surprised.

I’ve done my hair and nails, so assuming this baby comes soon, at least I won’t look like shit when I check into the delivery room. I’m still walking around, shopping, meeting people for lunch, keeping those that care updated on IG and Snap, trying to look cute (without makeup) and living off the glorious feeling of inhaling the compliments being thrown in my DM. But do not be fooled by the pictures and videos I’m posting. The truth is, 85 per cent of the time I feel like a really fat walrus that wants nothing more than to lie down all day. And eat whatever I feel like. And hopefully sneeze this baby out while trying to clear my nose.

I’m convinced that this child is a diva. Like, the more we wait, the more eagerly we anticipate her arrival, the longer she’ll take. It’s like a game to her, and I’m sure she’s really having fun with it. She’s a tease…I can feel it already. She’ll be the babe that leads you on and milks your desire for all its worth, and only give something back when it suits her. Babies are selfish, and this one might be a savage.

But still, we wait in anticipation.

Still, we bask in the warm glow of compliments, try to cook and even smile at people. Still, we insist on doing some things ourselves, like shopping for our own groceries and pushing our own carts, bending over to pick things from the ground and pushing through squats and lunges because we mustn’t stop trying to help this baby get out.

I’m a little frustrated because I really wanted the baby here by the 28^th so as not to eat too much into my leave (I’ve been home for three weeks now) or gain any more weight, but I’m trying to be patient. It’s hard because I’m moody, so if you meet me, please consult deeply with yourself before uttering a word to me because I swear I will bitch slap the hell out of you if you ask me a stupid question, e.g.: “You’ve not given birth yet?” or, “You’re still pregnant?” Since I obviously just want to be pregnant for 77 weeks and have the ability to make that happen so I swallowed a great big melon so I could continue waddling and prospering in that quest.

Forgive me…that was the mood typing. Now, as you were 🙂