If I am lucky enough to cook this baby until he's well done, I have an estimated 99 days until he is born. This makes me remember fondly the night I turned ten. As I fell asleep, something occurred to me and I excitedly called my mom in to tell her.
"I'm double digits now!"
She seemed amused by this observation, as she probably would be today if I told her this again. Much like that time, I don't think she'd really realize the weight of it for me. Simply put, I never thought I'd get this far. If luck continues to treat me with the same regard as it has in the past several months, I suspect I'll be saying this for the rest of my life.
If the next 100 days are anything like the last, they will be filled with pure anxiety, pure joy, pure disbelief and ultimately, a generally medically textbook pregnancy experience. I can only hope.