I feel like my patience for this pregnancy decreases by 50% almost every day. Although I am not quite “ready” in terms of having a bag packed or all the baby clothes put away or haven written a birth plan (which consists only of “do not offer me an epidural – if I want it, I’ll ask for it”) or having my kids take the sibling-newborn prep class or really anything – I am tired.
Tired of lugging these extra 35 pounds around (and I’m sure to gain at least another 5 before it’s over).
Tired of worrying about the baby (is he moving enough? Did those glasses of wine over the last few months cause fetal alcohol syndrome? Is his umbilical cord wrapped around him like it was with Little A?)
Tired of these stabbing pains in my back, my hips, and my vagina (sorry if TMI, but this is real.)
Tired of people asking me when I’m due and looking incredulous.
Tired of not being on my regular meds and being unsure as to whether this current depression is pregnancy or drug-reduction related and having no clear answers on what.to.do.
Tired of not doing the things I usually enjoy, both because my motivation is nil and my body won’t allow it.
Tired of worrying about classes and exams and degree progress.
Tired of anticipating meeting my little baby boy.
So I’m irritable, frustrated and exhausted. 29 days until term. I want him to be ready to come out – I won’t be doing anything crazy to hasten delivery – but rest assured I’ll be posting an eviction notice sooner rather than later.