I'm officially on leave, having thrown in the towel on Tuesday at 39 weeks, 2 days. By this point in pregnancy, the inescapable presence of a tiny human ready to drop is so distracting I consider any woman a hero for working past it. As Vance's students are fond of saying, "The struggles are real."
At some point last weekend I realized that nobody gets an award for occupational heroism (at least not of the prenatal sort), and I had the support of my employer to spend the short time left before "Cletus's" arrival taking care of myself and finishing up whatever preparations were left.
So I called it.
And every day since has felt so unfamiliar to me. Like