I used to make so much noise about women who are at the end of their pregnancies and tired of being pregnant so they go and get induced and what not. Though this is still not the plan, I can’t entirely blame them.
It’s like within the past week, my body has transferred into the Fourth Trimester where this list of horrible symptoms that I wouldn’t have even associated with pregnancy just keeps getting longer and longer. My chest hurts, my friggin ribs ache, my toes are tiny sausages, the baby keeps pushing on my bowels with her fat head… I AM SO TIRED OF THIS. Seriously, stop your friggin freeloading. GTFO. I’m done.
Then again… you’re much less scary in there, aren’t you? It’s pretty dang difficult to break you in there… and there is absolutely no dealing with The Floppy Head-ness. (This has always been the scariest thing about newborns to me and the #1 reason I didn’t hold my best friend’s daughter for the first 3 months of her life).
So I’m in this constant bickering in my own head about whether or not I would prefer this baby out of me. I’m almost convinced it will never happen though. I’m not sure that this can really, TRUELY be the end of this crazy thing that has been going on with my body for the last 9 months. Then again, it’s not really the end, is it?
Tomorrow we have a Due Date Celebration planned. We’re going to eat lunch at home with the family (something that Curtis never gets to do because he usually works Sundays), go see Watchmen in IMAX with fan-friggin-tastic seats, go out to dinner, he’s supposed to paint my toenails, I’d like to do pregnancy photos, should probably figure out this whole “carseat” thing… I doubt we’ll finish all of this though. I’m excited to just have a day to spend with Curtis mostly. He took off work, doesn’t have to worry about homework (spring break this week!), blah blah blah lost my train of thought because of a contraction.
To sum things up, I recently finished Harry Potter and realized that he was the same age as us when he started having children, so I feel happy. :-/