kerouac says

maybe that's part of it, though. this whole thing is so overwhelming that occasionally i don't feel up to talking about it. people keep asking me, excitedly, "how do you feeeel?" and then seem kind of disappointed when i say, "i'm okay."

i am. i'm okay. i've been alternately pretty joyful, kind of scared, and, honestly, a little bored. heartburn and growing out of your pants are sometimes exciting, but a lot of times not. sometimes i wonder if i'd feel that way if we had tried for eight years to get pregnant, like this woman i met yesterday. i'll say it again: we are luckier than we had any reason to expect to be.

he's coming soon--his little fetus body dropped lower two days ago, and i think i might be having some braxton hicks. i might have been for a while, i guess; i don't really know what they're supposed to feel like. there are some sensations that maybe feel like the "tightening" people describe, but they also feel like maybe he just flexed something and my tummy bulged out--in one part, usually, not the whole thing. and they don't seem to have precise beginnings and ends. so maybe not. who cares, kind of. i think the real ones will be easy enough to spot.

in a month or so, he'll be here. we'll be parents. there's nothing i can think of that's important and significant enough to spend these last days doing. i feel elegiac about the last days of me-and-the-monkey, on our own. we've been such an amazing twosome up to this point. i know adding something will only be a net good, but this is mourn-worthy, these two self-involved, each-other-involved people that we've been. we've done what we wanted, for the most part, and we've had enormous fun. somehow i feel like before wee ferguson comes out we're still those single people who fell in love eight years ago, and after he does we're Parents. not really true; in any event, we're already different from those people.

and these new people will be good, too. we'll be in love with a baby and each other. that's not a bad thing.