Forty Weeks and Fries

I'm at the end of my fortieth week of pregnancy. Forty weeks of being pregnant. Teehee.  You guys, it's a hoot! I've had an awesome pregnancy, been pretty chill with all the emotions, felt pretty great and then that due date came and a switch FLIPPED.

It's a roller coaster. Minute to minute. I'm good. I'm great, God's in this. Then NOPE WAIT GOD LEFT ME HERE WHY I AM HERE. And then, no, I'm good he's in it. NOPE HE'S GONE AGAIN WHY ME. Literally within 60 seconds. It's hilarious. Also, at times a bit tearful. A little exhausting also, I need a nap pretty much constantly.

For example, yesterday we stopped at Zaxby's for lunch because Marshall had a free combo coupon. I asked him for a grilled chicken sandwich with no bun (so I could use my own gluten free bun at home) and fries. And he said, "Can you just eat some of my fries?"

DUN DUN DUN.

Here are all the things I thought in my head in the eternal 9 seconds before I responded out loud (with grace straight from mother Mary, if I can brag on myself for a second. All those Bible studies about marriage basically trained me for this week):

• Why are you questioning me? (Think Evil Queen in Snow White voice, with hand wringing)
• So, you don't want any fries? I'm basically 41 weeks pregnant. I will eat all your fries. I will eat all the fries in the world. AND STILL BE HUNGRY. 
• I gave you my fun money debit card to buy this for me with. I am spending my FUN MONEY ON ZAXBY'S. THIS IS WHAT IS FUN TO ME RIGHT NOW. GIVE ME FRIES.
• Why do you question anything regarding food when it comes to me right now? Do you want to die?
• I am going to cry. My chin is quivering. I just want my own fries. I am going to actually cry ugly sobbing tears right now. 

But instead of any of these things, I just calmly asked:

"Why can't I have my own fries?" Legitimately wondering if there was some reason I didn't see as to why I should eat some of his fries and not get my own.

And the man, whom I love more than life itself, rolled his eyes, sighed and said "you can have your own fries." and walked away and got me my own fries. If he only knew how hard it was for me to ask that question, which was CLEARLY the least sassiest and most polite and productive thing to do in the situation. 

And here's what I love about him even more, he doesn't even know he rolls his eyes and sighs. He does it so seamlessly and quickly, I'd probably normally miss it. But I'm 40 weeks pregnant and I see eeeeevvvvverrrrryyything. Okay, so I didn't see him do it. But really, he probably rolled his eyes. I mean, it was hard to see with his eyes facing the other direction. But I'm pretty sure I heard a sigh through the closed car door as he walked away. When you're this pregnant you have super sonic hearing, seeing, and eating powers. You do. So that's where I'm at. 40 weeks pregnant (I guess, 41 weeks today). I see everything, and I will eat all the fries.

(Read a similar story about Olive Garden and breadstick tears during my pregnancy with Lincoln here. Seriously. Pregnant ladies and food.)

And, in all seriousness...

Thank you one million times one million times one million for all the texts and emails and social media comments of friends thinking of us and praying for us. I cannot even really put into words how meaningful it is to know we have so many people loving us and praying for us. We've got a routine 41 week ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow to check on our girl and if she comes on her own it will be before the 15th when an induction is scheduled. We're really doing good, feeling great (just sleepy and hungry, ha!) and are riding out this once in a lifetime experience of being THIS pregnant! I'm already seeing some really sweet ways God has blessed us and loved us in this wait time, and can't wait to see how her birth goes and his hand in it all. He's never failed us yet, and we know he's here in the middle of the wait.