My Little Survivor.

So maybe Noah will come out today, or tomorrow. Am I ready? Yes, in the fact that I don't want to be lugging around this humongous belly any more, I want to fit in my old jeans, I want to feel like myself again instead of like a waddling womb, and I wouldn't mind my hormones coming back down to an appropriate level.
Am I ready emotionally, to take care of this little guy? No.
Am I ready physically, for pain? No.
It was good to get a little perspective today when on Facebook someone mentioned how thankful they were for life, in light of it being 9-11.
If in some miraculous way he actually does make in into the world today, it wouldn't be the first time he has lived up to his name in the sense of him being a survivor: this little guy has been exposed to the craziest things, included, but not limited to:
*A healthy amount of caffeine (and by healthy, I don't mean healthy for him, I mean healthy for me). I didn't give it up this time. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's how I felt in the morning, trying to care for Ethan who wakes up like a bowling ball on fire, shooting down a lane, versus me, who wakes up usually feeling close to being dead.
*A blow to the gut from Ethan's head, with a running head start of a good twenty feet. I fainted soon after, and my abdomen was sore for a week. I'm not sure how Noah felt.
*A car accident
*Relational stress like I have never experienced before.
*A New Year's Eve dose of wine, pre-pregnancy test.
*A ten day dose of antibiotics, which the doctor told me were perfectly safe but when I was reading the tiny print over breakfast on about day four, realized the doctor was full of crap because they actually never test these things on humans at all, just little rats.
*An oozing appendix.
*An hour or so of anesthesia.
*Lots of red 40 because besides not trying to avoid it in food, it was also an ingredient in each of my pre-natals, when I took them.
And to top it off:
*A good few days of Morphine, and then a week of Pitocin.
So this baby is the Lord's. Because as much as I felt like the best mama in the world for Ethan, in terms of health, I feel like the worst for Noah. But Ethan still came out with one ear. I like control, like to think that if I do--or don't do--A, B, and C, then E won't happen. And that's not how life works.
So today my prayer is small, the only thing I can think of when I close my eyes is Lord have mercy and gave me grace, no matter what happens. Hold my baby.