Estrés

Oh, hi friends. Today I am what the OB office likes to call "38 and 4." That's 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Funny that we get so specific and particular. Like we even know. Due date is a mere week and 3 days away. And I am here, visiting the ol' blogosphere, because I am out on maternity leave. Which is a decision I wish I could take back. Never thought I'd say that: "I wish I were working."

When I count up stressors in my life lately, I can think of a few. It's almost funny though, because right now I am lazily ok with wasting most of a day. It'll all make sense in a minute (or a few, because this post turns out out to be crazy long). I thought I'd try and summarize the whole situation on the blog since it's been shamefully neglected these past several months, and maybe writing it all out will be somewhat cathartic for me.

In July, while I was pitifully nauseated and hypothyroid, we were shopping for houses. We found a winner; a short sale. We had looked at lots of short sales and foreclosures, but this one was in fantastic condition, considering. It's greatest feature was space!, openness that we weren't finding in other homes in our price range. I was uneasy, much preferring the idea of buying a home we'd be able to close on and move into by the fall. But we went for it; we put in our offer at the beginning of August, right before I started work. The seller's bank had required that we pay for an attorney on the case, so our realtor thought that ought to speed things up a bit. Still short sales can take months, but we thought we'd be the lucky ones that got it through in 2-3 months.

Fast forward to December. Still no word on the house. A few times I really tried to convince Burke that we needed to look at houses again, give up on the short sale. He was pretty sure he couldn't give up on the killer deal we were going to get on this home, so we didn't. Besides, we were super busy anyway. Finally, right before Christmas, we heard from the seller's realtor that the bank was going to approve the sale, and they were accepting our offer, no counter. They requested that we close in 30 days. We did nothing until, about a week later, we got official word from the bank. Still no written approval, but it was from them. Our lender went to work, feverishly collecting documents from us, drafting documents for us to sign, etc. They had a 3 week deadline! We also jumped on the phone setting up utilities in our name and getting our inspections done. Closing was scheduled, a few days prior to the deadline. Found out the day of that, no, the seller's bank did not get the document within 72 hours and we could not close today. Rescheduled for their deadline, Jan. 21st.

January 21st we met at the attorney's office. We signed a folder full of files. Closing day! Then the attorney mentioned, "We're still waiting on one form from the seller's bank. We're on the phone with them. We should be getting it soon. Can't say if it'll be 10 minutes or 2 hours, but we'll get it."

And we left. Congratulations! Sort of? Do we own a house?

No, we didn't own a house. 3 days later, finally that form was sent to the attorney's office, around 5pm Friday. We were assured that probably everything would be fine, they just needed to record it in our name, and we'd be set. The seller's realtor gave us the key, and on Saturday we cleaned and prepped our new place for painting!

Monday. Around noon. Realtor calls. It's simply been too long. We have to draft new documents. The seller's bank requests 5 more business days. We can't close til a week from Tuesday.

I'm sorry. Didn't we already close? Doesn't the word "close" signify something final? complete? done?

And that, my friends, is how it's come to be that I'm on maternity leave in a half-packed apartment with a million to-dos that cannot be done. My motherly nesting instincts are screaming.

And that, my friends, is how it's come to be that we may be closing on a home a mere 4 days prior to due date. Of course if baby comes 4 days early, who knows what will happen to that thing they call closing. I do not think it means what you think it means.


I was right; even if no one in the whole world reads this, it was cathartic.