The peak

This is it. I've reached the epitome of pregnancy. Barefoot, in a maternity tank top that nevertheless doesn't cover my belly, sciatica shooting down one leg, nerves frazzled from listening to my toddler scream "Mama! Stay!" after leaving her at bedtime because she wouldn't lie down, spoon in one hand and carton of ice cream in the other. This baby can come; there's nothing more left for me.