Excuse me, what?

Well it turns out that I am 34 weeks pregnant today. I'm not exactly sure how that happened, but what it translates to is this: 40 weeks in a pregnancy minus 34 weeks gestation = 6 weeks until JJ's (estimated) arrival. 6 weeks, to me, is a very short period of time. 6 weeks is only 3 weeks from when I'll be full term. 6 weeks is how long some people schedule in between haircuts. The reason for my slight panic over this is that with this sudden leap into the future, there has seemingly been a switch flipped in those that I meet who are curious enough to have me remind them of my due date. Up until now, and I do include just one week ago, the response I would usually get was "Oh you still have quite a while!". Now, not so much. I am starting to hear things like "That's soon!" and "I can't believe you're getting so close already!", which I've noticed have an affect on me similar to that of knowing a huge speech that you have to give is in an hour. A bit of sweat, a slightly racing heart, the overwhelming feeling that there's still so much to do yet so, so little time. However I am usually able to snap out of this state of anxiety if the inquisitor is kind enough to remark with intense disbelief that I look good for being so near that magic day. I assume most of them are just feeding me some sort of pregnant chick line, but hey, I'll take it. It works wonders at completely distracting me from the fact that they just pointed out that I am on the downhill slide. And unlike Ralphie's big Santa moment in "A Christmas Story", I don't have the ability to come to a screeching halt, turn around and climb back up just to get a few last words in. JJ Cocherell will soon be in the building folks, get your seats now!