I currently feel like I am stuck in a movie. One where the hero and heroine have faced and overcome some incredible, life-changing obstacles and are starting to walk off into their golden sunset when, suddenly, the storm clouds roll in and a dark villainous voice mocks them saying, “not so fast, my pretties, not so fast.”

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but even with all the last minute changes and moves we’ve faced in the past year, we had hope that, once we got back to Toulouse from Germany, we’d settle down for a few months and peacefully await the birth of our first child. “Ha ha!” says the villain. “Think again!”

Yep, we are currently in limbo with just about two months left until I go into labor waiting to hear if we have to move to Doha, Qatar next week. The adventurous side of me is kind of excited by the prospect of a new country, but the hormonal, seven-month pregnant part of me is admittedly freaking out. I think I’ve set a personal record for waking up in tears this past week. Six days and counting. Poor Matt.

We arrived back in Toulouse on Saturday evening and were warmly greeted by one of our favorite staff members at our hotel. They’d put us on the top floor in a room with a balcony and this incredible view.

We lugged all of our bags upstairs and crashed on the couch, ordering dinner from a new food delivery service in Toulouse called Take Eat Easy. The ability to read the menu and place our orders online without struggling through a conversation in French was a lifesaver (especially since my mind is still stuck in German-mode).

Moving is exhausting no matter who you are, but I can tell you it’s no easy feat at 29 weeks pregnant—especially when it’s up to you and your husband to lug seven suitcases, three backpacks and a body pillow to and from the airport. On a positive note, a sweet Lufthansa flight attendant snuck me a little bag of gummy bears and chocolate bar on our flight to Toulouse—for the baby, of course! A father of two, he obviously knows the way to a pregnant lady’s heart.

Sunday morning we ran out to the Saint-Aubin market to pick up a roasted chicken, fruit, veggies (asparagus and strawberry season—woohoo!) and, of course, a baguette, but the rest of the day was spent binge watching “Homeland” on Netflix. This meme pretty aptly describes me all day yesterday.

Today I faced the dreaded, third trimester glucose test. Matt was sweet enough to go with me and keep me company for the two-hour ordeal. I’d been researching what to expect though various pregnancy boards and apps, but wasn’t quite prepared for three blood draws!

They drew a couple of vials to start with, then I had to drink a nasty bottle of what was basically an orange syrup. After an hour, they drew another vial of blood and then I had to wait one additional hour so they could draw a final vial of blood. Oh, and I wasn’t allowed to eat until after the test. Needless to say, neither Baby Girl nor I were very happy by the end of it. Matt, smart man (and amazing husband) that he is, made us lunch immediately after we got back to the hotel. Still, I’ve been starving all day. Maybe that’s why I’ve pretty much demolished this bag of popcorn in the last 15 minutes.

As an expat (especially one in our ever-changing situation), there are some things you may not get to enjoy, such as a baby shower with your family and closest friends, or building a dream nursery for your new baby. We knew these sacrifices going into the job (and when trying to get pregnant) and have been trying to make the best of things.

Over the last two months, I dreamed about coming back to Toulouse and hitting the ground running to finish preparing for our daughter’s birth. In addition to purchasing and organizing all of the things we need for a baby, I was going to register with a midwife for birthing classes and sign up for a month of French lessons so I could at least semi-communicate with the nurses and doctors while in labor. We were even working on some pre-baby visits from my mom and several friends. Though there was still much we couldn’t anticipate (i.e. when our little angel will make her appearance), we had a plan—a plan that may suddenly be out the window.

The nesting instinct has hit me hard, but instead of organizing and cleaning to my heart’s content, we’re currently living in the land of suitcases. They’re sprawled out across our living room floor with contents creeping further out as we dig through them looking for underwear and socks.

The inner nester in me is not pleased, but the 29-weeks pregnant part of myself says, “eff it. I’m burning enough calories on my 32 runs to the bathroom every two hours. There’s not enough chocolate in the world to motivate me to unpack nine suitcases just to repack them again in a few days.”

We’ve given Matt’s company a deadline of Thursday to make a decision. So we just have to make it through the next few days of limbo and probably some morning tears. I’ll keep you all posted on what we find out!