You made it. By our careful calculations, you have now completed the fortieth week of your mother's pregnancy. By this time you're supposed to be fully ripe and ready to be picked, or something like that. And we're waiting. Our apartment has gotten dirty again since we did some major cleaning in expectation of your arrival, and you've been your regular active self throughout the week (and perhaps even more than regular), and now we have little to do but wait. It's not as though we're waiting with a stopwatch in hand, but we definitely are counting the days. This is where the books end - they don't have any more to tell us, and we're still waiting.

But we may have quite some time to wait. At the end of the week your mother visited the gynecologist and she told her that you're still not in position for delivery and that you may still be a while in coming. So we're waiting, though it's very clear that any day now, you shall be released.