The Final Countdown.

I don't remember who sings it, but "The Final Countdown" is indeed looping in my head, over and over and over and over again. Why? Well, besides being 39 weeks pregnant, I've got the C-section scheduled, which means that unless she decides to make an early appearance, Baby Girl Page will arrive on Friday, April 3, sometime between 9 and 10 in the morning.

And I'd just like to pause for a minute to tell you how weird that feels. Not just that I am going to be a mom in less than five days, but that I was able to pick her birthday. Literally fit her arrival into a time slot that's convenient for me.

Here's how it worked. I met with the doctor again, who after telling me all the gory details about how much blood I'd lose (about 1.5 liters, for those of you who are too curious for your own good), what the increased risks were (surprise! death again), and how much recovery sucks (badly, but then, so does having a baby come out the regular way), said, "alrighty then, just go talk to the scheduler on the way out, and we'll get this baby out of you!"

So I did.

And after poking around on her computer for a while, she informed me that I could have my baby on Tuesday or Friday, which sounded better?

Uhhhh, I dunno. That's not a decision I expected to have to make.

But then the practical side of my personality kicked in and informed me that Friday would be more convenient for my husband, give me more time to clear my schedule at work, etc, etc. So Friday it is.

Which means she still doesn't have a name, but she has a birthday.

It's a strange world we live in, isn't it?