The countdown to due date is at 11 days. 11 days till the day I’m expected to pop. 11 days till we meet Baby Hess. 11 days. 11!

I used to judge pregos for holding and rubbing their bumps and now I am regularly asked if I’m okay because I’m unknowingly carrying myself along or sitting with my arms jutting out at awkward angles because my hands are all. over. the bump. And this has been almost my entire pregnancy, not just since I’ve looked like I could require medical assistance at a moments notice. Lesson learned – I was silly and just didn’t get it before.

Bringing us back to the countdown. I also used to judge pregos for making note of what I considered insignificant milestones. Half-way there. Beginning third trimester. One month longer. Fine. Those are legitimate milestones.

11 days. Nassomuch.

And here I am close to jumping out of bed and screaming from my front stoop that I’m only 11 (did you hear? 11) days away from B-day because I feel like the whole world should be equally excited about this low and getting lower quantity of days. Now, my neighbors (being the baby’s grandparents) may actually care and not mind the stoop-yelling. But I can’t let that fool me. Very few people could ever be as excited as Ryan and I about the odd number of days above and beyond a week that are left in our pregnancy.

So unlike the bump holding/rubbing/loving, which I couldn’t contain if mandated by the pope or the law or both, I’m going to try to temper my own elation and refrain from proclaiming from the rooftop (or Facebook- much safer) that I’m 11 days away. Because I remember, though only vaguely, that 11 is not significant, except to me- the person who finally feels like I am ready enough, cannot grow any larger, and am almost sick with anticipation. The general population, while excited, doesn’t care how close the baby is, only that s/he has arrived – whenever that happens to occur.  So this is me. NOT being overly exuberant on social media (wink), and vowing never again to judge a prego for posting that they’ve reached the 18 day mark or 23 more days or providing public updates on how dilated they are like Ryan’s Starbucks barista… (mmm no still not okay with that). Because holy crap, once you feel ready  – which I finally do – there is no day that is unimportant and no number too odd to find significant as you approach the craziest, most exciting, life-changing moment.

Exclaim away pregos! You tell anyone you want, as often as you’d like about how soon your baby’s due no matter how completely arbitrary that date is!!! I won’t judge you any more unless you mention the world dilation.

11 days!!!!!!!!! Which could mean 2 or 17!!!! But whatever because I’m ready!!!!

Soon Baby Hess. Soon.