July 25th is my due date. As expected, baby Meatball was not born today. I’m not sure he’ll be here any time soon as there have been no signs that my body is prepping for labor.

In an ideal world, I’d have a baby in my arms. I’d also be exhausted and trying to get the hang of breastfeeding. There’d be a stack of dirty diapers in the Diaper Champ and I’d have a blow out story or two. Or maybe I’d be in the family care unit with Sean and a rotation of visitors coming in to meet Meatball.

I say it’s ideal because I wouldn’t feel like I’m “wasting” my maternity leave. But this time to focus on me, Sean and getting ready isn’t a waste.

So far, it’s been quite relaxing especially since I get to sleep in. I’ve added more to my recent reads list. First, Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I first heard about Bernadette when Melissa, the Feminist Texican reviewed it in December. I was reminded to pick it up after a recent mention on NPR as a great summer read. Melissa’s recommendation was enough since I really liked the last two novels I read based on her reviews. Bernadette didn’t let down. It’s a fun read and I enjoyed the unusual format.

Now I’m reading Francisco Goldman’s memoir-ish Say Her Name: A Novel. The novel is based on his relationship with his wife, Aura, who passed away in a swimming accident on July 25, 2007. It reminds me a little of a Love Is A Mixtape: Life and Loss One Song as a Time since they’re both written by a widower following the unexpected death of a young wife except the former does it through literature rather than music.

I’ve been pampering myself. I got my haircut and dyed since the colors were off and my grays were coming in. I’m generally lazy about covering up my roots, but I rush to get it done before a big event. A new baby — and lots of photos with the baby and Sean — seems like a good reason. I got a pedicure too and finally used the gift certificate Sean gave me for a prenatal massage with Becca at Booda Belly.

I don’t think the nesting instinct has actually kicked in. Instead, I felt the usual need to straighten up my apartment as if I knew I’d be having guests. My mom and sister have helped out with washing Meatball’s clothes, towels and blankets. They’re all put away and arranged nicely in his nursery just waiting to be worn/used. My mom also offered to come over and do deep cleaning. She’s awesome.

The best part of being on leave is living in yoga pants and sports bras. It’s too hot for maternity jeans.

***

Fine. Okay. Good.

Those are my standard responses to questions from friends and family about how I’m feeling, at least physically.

I don’t feel uncomfortable, the nausea I had a few weeks ago went away, I generally sleep 8-10 hours a night, and I still have a good amount of energy to run errands and get our home in order for Meatball’s arrival.

The nurse at my doctor’s office last week said my face doesn’t look like I’m ready to have a baby. I didn’t know what that meant until I told my mom. She agreed and said one can tell when women look like they’re over with pregnancy. The massage therapist I saw yesterday echoed the same sentiment.

Mentally, I feel nervous about labor and all that comes with it. I told Sean that it scares me, but not as much as caring for a newborn and being a mom. At least there are professionals looking over me during labor, it will last X hours, and there are ways to deal with the worst of the pain. The recovery will be shorter and easier than adjusting to our new lives and figuring out motherhood.

One thing I don’t say is “ready.”

Sean’s take on feeling “ready to officially not be ready” for fatherhood.

It feels weird to answer that I’m due in X days when anyone asks. It’s no longer months or even weeks.

Six days. A week.

At least technically. I know it can still be weeks. The “any day now” mentality is tough for me. I’m not the most organized planner, but I do like calendars and knowing how much time I have to prepare. The fact that life is going to change for Sean and I and we don’t know exactly when is tough to wrap my head around especially less than a year after we planned our wedding.

Last July we were tracking RSVPs and in the final two months of wedding prep. We still had a lot of planning to do in mid-July, but we knew that we would be getting married on September 15th.

It’s not like that with Meatball. He can show up on the 25th — highly unlikely — or days/weeks before or after. Who knows.

My mom has her hopes set on the 29th so he can be the first of Papá Chepe’s dozens of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to share his birthdate. I thought it would be neat if he shared Sean’s birthday. Sean didn’t think so. Maybe he’ll be a 31st baby like me or he’ll show up on his grandparents’ 36th wedding anniversary.

Whatever the day, I have a feeling it will be like the lyrics in “Las Mañanitas.”

El día en que tú naciste
Nacieron todas las flores
(On the day you were born
All the flowers blossomed)

They’ll ring truer than ever.

A week ago, I woke up from a dream in the middle of the night. I don’t remember much about the dream except that my friend Gerry was in it and said something like, “Nope, those are real. You’re in labor.”

I laid in bed without waking Sean and wondered if the mild pains I was feeling were cramps from gas, Braxton Hicks, or very early labor.

The worrying began immediately. We were so not ready. The newborn and 0-3 month clothes gifted at the baby shower had not been washed, our hospital bag was 1/3 packed and the nursery was still in progress. He won’t be sleeping there for some time, but I figured we should move gifts out of the living room, take them out of boxes and put them together sooner rather than later. The apartment needed to be cleaned — can you tell my nesting instinct hadn’t kicked in yet? — and more.

The to-do list of things at home worried me, but I was more anxious about what would happen if I had to start my maternity leave a week earlier than planned. In the past month, I’ve been getting things ready for coworkers taking over different aspects of my job, but most of my notes and directions were still a work in progress. There’s only so much I could do a few months in advance. Plus, I had to balance preparing for my leave with normal duties during the quite busy early weeks of summer.

Eventually, I fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning I still had mild cramps but they went away before I left for my 37 week doctor’s appointment.

***

I’ve always stressed about leaving work before a vacation. I’m that person who makes sure to store files in DropBox and checks work email while away. I can’t help it. I have a tough time handing over my responsibilities. I feel a sense of ownership with my programs/students. I also work with great people and don’t want to leave anyone hanging. I’ll miss campus too as I’ve always loved the calmness during the summer. My best memories go back to the August I first arrived and met many of my closest friends. It’ll be the first time in 15 years I won’t be around campus in the early fall quarter.

Now that I’m leaving for a few months, I have mixed emotions. I’ll miss the office and my co-workers, but I also welcome the break and the chance to relax a little (maybe) before the baby gets here. When I set my last day a few months ago with HR, I didn’t know how I’d feel late in pregnancy. As the day drew closer, I thought about pushing it back a week since aside for some nausea I feel okay, can do my job without a problem, and am not in that “I’m so uncomfortable, this baby needs to be born already!” stage yet. However, after my dream and reminder that there’s so much to do, I knew I didn’t want to change the date. I want the time to relax, sleep in and get our home ready — if it works out that way.

***

Friday was my last day. My co-workers surprised me with some snacks and gifts mid-morning. Meatball now has his first UCLA Bruins onesie to go along with his collection of Dodger gear.

I spent the day leaving notes behind on my programs and tasks for the period while I’m gone. I was amused when some of the students in my programs told me to “enjoy [my] vacation.”

As co-workers left for the weekend, there were longer goodbyes than usual, hugs and requests to send lots of pictures. I stayed for a while since I still wasn’t ready and had more work to do. It was past 9 when I finally left.

I walked out feeling incredibly sad. I’ll miss the campus where I’ve spent all of my adult life. I’ll return, but as a different kind of adult.