So Tired of This

Okay. The biggest thing that’s irked me about pregnancy is that nobody ever tells you how much it sucks… until you’re past the three-month mark and you’re locked in with no way out.

So right now I’ve got sixteen days to go until my due date. (Crazy, huh?) I’m getting my hospital bag packed, my contact list ready, all that good stuff. I’m so sick of being pregnant. Labor doesn’t seem so bad now, just because it will mean the end of being pregnant. For one, there’s the drinking. I didn’t think I would miss it, and I probably wouldn’t, except that every time I see someone with a beer, or I’m in a restaurant and see that they’re having a margarita special, or I see my mom slipping some coffee liqueur into a glass of milk as if nobody’s going to notice, I’m reminded that not only do I not have it, but I’m not allowed to have it, which makes me want it more. I’m really not a big drinker, but nine months is a little much.

I’m ready to be able to lie down comfortably in bed. I’m ready to stop having stabbing pains in my groin area. I’m ready to be able to go an entire hour without peeing. I’m ready to have the lung capacity to take a deep breath. I’m really ready to be able to sleep on my stomach or back again. I’m ready to go ahead and get through labor, just so I don’t have to be scared of it any more.

I’m ready to see Arielle. I’m ready to stop worrying about whether she’ll be okay. I’m ready to see what she looks like, to hear what her voice sounds like (as if every screaming newborn doesn’t sound the same, but I still want to hear her, if that makes any sense). I’m ready to start my life as a mother. Okay, I’m not ready, but I’m eager, and that should count for something.

Sixteen days. How crazy is that?


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