According to my handy online pregnancy calendar, I have now entered the home stretch of my third (and probably final) pregnancy.

Thank goodness!

I vowed early on, knowing that this might be the last time I experience having a baby, to enjoy every minute of this past nine months. And I think I did pretty well for the first month or two. I had no complaints early on, but as my waistline grew, so did my level of exhaustion and general discomfort.

Of course, being uncomfortable is nothing new to a third-trimester mommy-to-be; in fact, I seem to remember it being pretty normal. What’s also normal is the anticipation that hits right around 36 weeks. You start to realize just how close you are to such a major life change, how close you are to meeting that little one who’s been growing inside you for so many months.

In my case, the excitement (and fear) started building around 32 weeks — that’s when I was sent to the hospital after my doctor noticed signs of early labor. The situation turned out fine, and my baby boy is now nearing full-term status. But all these weeks in between of hearing the birth of my son could be “any minute now” from my midwife has made me extremely impatient.

I’m constantly waiting for any sign that labor is actually beginning. And I find myself jealous of other moms who aren’t playing this same game, specifically my sister-in-law (yes, my baby will be just days old when his new cousin joins the family), who is scheduled for a cesarean section in mid-February. She knows what day her baby is coming, and I’m sure is planning accordingly.

Me? I’ve had everything ready for weeks, just in case. Hospital bags are packed, crib is built, clothes washed, car seat installed — and still no baby.

Because while it could be any minute, it also could be next week or even next month. We just have to wait to see.