It's morning.

And I'm still pregnant.

Each morning I wake up and tell Dave, "I can't believe I'm still pregnant" and he shakes his head in mutual disbelief. I was hopeful last night would be the night because I was having some semi-painful contractions around 10 minutes apart, but they faded after an hour and never came back.

Moses had a rough night last night, too, so I was more conscious of the fact that I wasn't near labor each time I was up with him. I'm not sure if Moses is beginning to have night terrors or what, but lately he wakes up with a fright and is inconsolable unless we turn on a light and get up for a bit. Last night he howled for an hour even with our solace and didn't calm down until I turned on a closet light and suggested we read a book. So, we read books and watched old episodes of The Muppet Show from 3-5 a.m. before he crashed again. I wish I knew what was bothering him at night. These freak outs aren't ideal for a family about to welcome a newborn!

My still-pregnant state has me thinking that maybe this stubborn little boy in my uterus is holding out for an 08-08-08 birthday. Wouldn't that be a great birth date? I'm sure there'll be a lot of intentional deliveries that day though so I'm not sure I'd enjoy a crowded hospital stay. For Moses, we had a nice, big room, but I've heard stories of women delivering in a tiny triage room (no TV!) on busy days. Yuck. I'd also be stuck watching Olympic coverage for my stay. I'm a fan of the sporting event, but at times the coverage is a bit overkill. Isn't it funny that I'm concerning myself with my possible TV schedule in the event I deliver post opening ceremony? I can't help but think about what mindless entertainment I'll have in those early, tired days, and I love me some boob tube.