Some days he offers me hope that the end is near, today he brings the harsh reality that I still have 2 months to go.
True confession time: I am sick of being pregnant. My hips hurt from waddling. I snore loudly enough to wake myself up (I'm sure this is my husband's favorite part) thanks to my painfully swollen sinuses. I can't breathe well enough to do anything physical for longer than 5 minutes which is a blow to a girl who likes to run five miles just for fun. The baby kicks so hard that I can't sleep at night unless I lay on my back and then he's up in my chest so I can't breathe. Heartburn keeps me from eating after 4:00 in the afternoon which means I cook dinners I can't eat and then am starving by the morning.
In theory, I think that it's cool that pregnancy takes 40 weeks and that the number 40 in the Bible means "in the fullness of time." Can't we figure out some way to speed this up a bit?
Not that I'm in any way prepared for a newborn in my life right now. I'd just like to take off the belly like a stinky shirt and set it aside for the day. Just one day to breathe and actually be able to smell things. A day where I can walk up the stairs without having to pause to catch my breath. An evening of being able to eat dinner with my family and not having to lie down by 8:00, which would mean I could actually tuck my children in and kiss them goodnight.
So, Curse you, little spinning baby! Can't you count any faster?