Dear Self.

Three months ago today was Penelope's due date. Obviously, that day came and went and she stayed snug as a bug in my (gigantic) belly. This is how we looked on April 26th:

Three months ago, I was equal parts impatience, anxiety, and excitement those final days. I truly felt like she was never going to get here and I was going to be pregnant for the rest of my life. 

Here's what I'd like to tell my 40-weeks-pregnant self:

• Relax! She's coming, I promise. In 48 hours, almost to the minute from the time this photo was taken, she'll be out of your (gigantic) belly and into your arms.
• Your birth plan is going to go to hell in a handbasket. But, turns out, you are pretty good at giving birth, even without your plan. You will surprise yourself and, halfway through pushing you'll be thinking, Holy shit, I am doing this.
• Your house is not going to go to hell in a handbasket after she is born. I know you are really concerned about that right now. Which is why Hugh found you attempting to dust the blades of the ceiling fan while standing on a chair yesterday.
• Remember last month when you got a Charlie horse in your calf in the middle of the night that was so bad your calf was sore for three days? And remember how you told yourself that that was probably only a fraction of what labor was going to feel like? You are right. That Charlie horse was approximately 1/1000 of what labor is going to feel like. But you'll survive.
• All your stress over breastfeeding? You are wasting your time. Turns out you and Penelope are pretty good at that, too. 
• Go get a pedicure. I know, you just got one yesterday. Get another one. And get a manicure, too. Then go walk around Target for five hours by yourself. Alone time is about to become a precious commodity.
• You love being a mom more than you even hoped you would. Which is saying a lot, given the crazy high expectations you have right now.
• Food has never tasted as good as it will one hour after you give birth. You will eat a hamburger, a baked potato, a granola bar, two glasses of apple juice, a salad, a bowl of pineapple, a brownie, and a carton of milk. You will still be hungry.
• You think you love Hugh right now. Oh, you just wait, my friend. You are going to be February 2005 falling-in-love giddy over that husband of yours all over again in about two days.   
• Your Momma makes it just in time to see you become a Mama yourself. Right now, you don't realize how important this is. You will get it about ten seconds after you lay eyes on your own daughter for the first time.
• You're going to cry for a solid two weeks after she's born, for happy reasons and sad reasons and no reasons at all. You will think you are the only person who has ever felt like this, until you call Sarah after one week and she tells you it's totally normal.
• Oh, what was that you said? You're tired? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. 
• This is how we look now:

• Spoiler alert: she's pretty cute.
• Oh, and that thing everyone keeps telling you about how you just can't imagine the love you are going to feel? They are correct. You will be changed in an instant. 

Love,

The-Carbonara-and-Turkey-Sandwich-Eating, Stomach-Sleeping, Wine-Drinking, Able-to-Go-More-Than-Five-Minutes-Without-Peeing, Looking-At-Her-Own-Toes-While-Standing-Up-Right-Now, Mama-Version of Yourself.