Getting there: 37+ weeks pregnant

Last Saturday, I hit 37 weeks, and suddenly my joyful embrace of pregnancy has dissolved.  Let's do this, yo.

Per Midwife Amy, any earlier than 36 weeks and 6 days would mean going to a hospital.  Now that I'm technically full-term, we can stick to our homebirth plan.  I hadn't figured on this being a factor-- most first-time moms go to their due date, leaving me another three weeks-- but my pelvis aches all the damn time, I'm still vomiting on the regular, and I need help getting off the couch.  I'm ready to put all our training to use and see if the kid was worth all this trouble.
Heather, of course, has been shameless in her cheer-leading for an early birth.  Saturday, I told her that there was something yellow and globby on the toilet paper when I peed (just before vomiting up a goodly amount of midwife-prescribed protein), and, oh lord, she was excited.  "It's your mucus plug.  I just know it!"  I texted Amy, a little embarrassed that I might be jumping the gun.  I passed the buck graciously, pretending it was only Heather who thought it might mean something.  We lucked out with her response, though:
"Yay!  It's good, but not indicative of impending labor.  It is actually a great sign that you will probably not go past your due date.  It's also a great sign because you're a first-time mom-- it means that your cervix is moving forward and softening.  Depending on the size of the plug you saw this morning, there may or may not be more."
This was totally awesome news to us.  Heather stroked my hair and gazed at me affectionately on our way to lunch, finding me all the more lovable now that I might be ready to produce her daughter.  The idea of waiting three more weeks had never appealed to her, not least because Evie's birth means she gets a month off from work.  I was kind of jazzed for a couple weeks at home, post-maternity leave and pre-baby, but I am sick to death of sitting on that birthing ball to alleviate pelvic pain, and I sure do love a surprise, so Baby coming early is sounding pretty good.
Plus, oh my god, food.  My stomach capacity is not unlike a newborn's at this point, and my tolerance for food other than Ensure is limited at best.  Again in betrayal of Amy's insistence on protein, yesterday's Greek yogurt was swiftly expelled, along with the delicious lemonade chaser.  I can't pretend I really wanted that yogurt, but I've started craving cut fruit, along with forbidden items like deli meat and soft-serve ice cream.  My fantasy is the arrival of post-delivery guests with fruit and meat platters, lasagna that I can actually fit into my stomach again (although that's on my dad, because I'm not really convinced anyone else's lasagna is worth my time), full glasses of lemonade...  I am going to get so fat before breast-feeding weight-loss kicks in, and it's going to be amazing.