I'm not referring to my holiday season lack of decorating, card mailing and present buying.
I'm not even referencing the NYE ball drop.
I'm talking about my belly. It's lowering more and more each day. I am actually, honestly, and undeniably waddling these days. I need help up off the couch or chairs most of the time. If I squat down to look or pick anything up, someone had best be next to me to pull me up! That, or I have to fall to my butt, get on my hands and knees, and pull myself up using nearby, stable objects. And just an FYI (and probably TMI too), a mucus plug is like EWCM on crack and steroids! Plus, it isn't accompanied by the urge to pounce the husband, much to both our dismay.
It took almost the whole 9 months, but I'm at the point where I can't help but complain. My back is killing me. My boobs feel like lead weights on my chest half the time. My ankles and feet are swollen more often then not. I have to visit the restroom far to frequently for my personal comfort. Sleep is elusive. I have 2 bottoms and 3 shirts that kinda, sorta fit and cover the burgeoning belly and are decently comfortable. Oh, and the on-again-off-again nausea has returned. I don't think I even need to mention the pendulum that is my emotions. Did I mention the lightening punches to my cervix?
Still, even given all the physical discomforts, the hormonal roller-coaster of my mental state, and the fact that I'm barreling ever faster to my due date, I'm still overjoyed and immensely grateful to be pregnant. To have the opportunity to have these things to complain about, mostly just to the Boy. 90% of people I know or those strangers that find out I'm 38w continually mention how I must be beyond ready to get this baby out of me. That I should be begging to go into labor ASAP. Honestly, I'm not. Sure, I mean I'm uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean I still don't relish having my baby staying in until (s)he is ready, growing strong and staying healthy in the mean time.
Besides, I've gotten pretty good at being pregnant (or at least I think so). I know what I'm doing, mostly, and things have been going pretty well. This next part? I'm not 100% sure about it. Are we truly ready to be completely responsible for another human being? Babies, from what I hear, are a lot different from puppies and kittens, at least in the beginning. While I can't wait to be a mom, will I be a good one? Will my child be happy to have me as a parent years down the road? How can I make sure that I don't screw this kid up for life? Compared to all those thoughts and worries, labor doesn't even remotely frighten me.
Hopefully, before the end of the week, I can work up the courage to finish packing my labor and hospital bags...