Well, I’ve made it to 36 weeks, and I am actively waiting. Waiting for this pregnancy to be over. You would think that I would be reveling in the fact that I am pregnant, basking in the maternal glow before the storm of delivery . . . but no. Mostly I just want to be done. I want to be done with this pregnancy, and I want to hold my son in my arms. I want him to be healthy and happy, and I want to give my anxiety and stress the big fat finger as I walk out of the hospital maternity ward. I want our family to be complete despite the fact that our lives will become harder with two babies versus just one. I want to be done with this phase of my life, even though I know infertility never truly goes away. I want to be at that point where I can say, “I’m here. I survived. And it’s time to move on.”