A few weeks ago, at 34 weeks pregnant, I was meeting with a colleague in her office when we needed a document that was still sitting on my desk. I started to get up to get it when she said 'don't get up you're pregnant.' My response was, I'm not that pregnant'.
Having had two kids already, she laughed.
Less than a week later, I started to feel 'that pregnant'. Moving around started to get difficult, carrying Austin starting to get difficult, sleeping started to get difficult. Overall, I started slowing down.
But now, another two weeks later -- at 37 weeks pregnant -- I'm so done with this and I'm so tired of being pregnant. Sleeping is incomfortable at best. Sitting is uncomfortable. Standing still is uncomfortable. Walking is -- you guessed it -- uncomfortable. Oh yeah, and slow. It's a damn good incentive to remember to bring my lunch every day (and therefore save money) because walking the two blocks to the shops and the two blocks back to the office is a heck of a lot of work!
I'm ready for this baby to come, both physically and mentally. Even a week ago, I would've said, 'no, not yet' because the room's not ready or the baby stuff is still in boxes or I still have a lot to do at work. But now, the room is ready, Austin's moved in to his new room, the baby stuff is unpacked and put away and my hospital bags are even packed and ready to go. And the work I still have to finish at work -- well if it doesn't get done, it doesn't get done. So be it.
I just want to sleep comfortably even if it means only sleeping for two hours at time. And I just want to be able to walk up from my basement without losing my breath. I want to be able to do up my winter coat, since winter seems to be never-ending this year. And I want to own more than five shirts that fit. Becuase when your maternity shirts stop fitting, you know you're in trouble.
So here's hoping that it really is three weeks or less until the newest Evans joins us, and not five more weeks like big brother Austin tortured me with.