I’d venture to guess that, for most people, the Olympics are inspiring.  Unfortunately, I’m feeling like a big, pregnant blob these days, so seeing beach volleyball players in their teeny weeny bikinis wasn’t doing a lot for my ego.  And then, as I watched Michael Phelps win his 8th gold medal, it dawned on me.  On behalf of all pregnant women of the world, past-present-future, I can hold my head high.  We are not so different from (and in many ways are superior to) these world-class athletes!

• Every time I try to paint my toenails or shave my legs, I have to exhibit nearly as much flexibility as Nastia Liukin!
• Completely exhausted,  as I climb our long flight of stairs for the umpteenth time at the end of the day, I’m demonstrating the stamina and determination of the most fatigued marathon runner.
• Hey, Kerri Walsh! My wedding ring doesn’t fit very well either.
• The media made a big deal about how little time Dara Torres had to rest between events.  Getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom AGAIN, after having just fallen asleep from the previous time, I can totally relate!
• Like the Olympic wrestlers, I’m desperately trying not to slip into the next weight category.  But despite my best efforts, I’m bearing a striking resemblance to some of the women shot putters.
• What’s the big deal about Kobe and the rest of the dream team?  All they have to do is fit a nice round ball through an amply-sized hoop.  No forceps or emergency c-sections needed there!
• Olympic athletes think that THEY have butterflies in their tummies?

And yet, on the day of my “medal ceremony,” I’ll have my eternal coach by my side, but there will be no primetime media coverage.  No one will be playing the national anthem.  Hopefully NO world records will be set.  But our angel straight from heaven will be more precious to me than any number of gold medals could ever be.  D-Day = 6 weeks, 6 days and counting!