I've always loved being pregnant, and being that I have relatively easy and complaint-free pregnancies, I feel I don't deserve the right to complain. Much. But I decided this past weekend that I've officially started feeling Pregnant, with a capital "P." My feet hurt the minute I step out of bed. These poor feet were not meant to carry around 200 lbs. Yes, that's right, I've surpassed my husband's weight by 20 lbs and still have 5 weeks to go. This will be largest pregnancy yet. I'm predicting an 8 1/2 lber. The round ligament pain makes me limp for the first 20 steps I take after sitting/lying down. My lower back has reached the end of its rope, and is never happy-- not when I'm upright, not when I lie down. I'm so tired I could literally sleep through the day and night. I feel like bending over is the most anyone can ask of me these days. Any sort of exercise, be it crouching down to clean up food from the floor after Benjamin eats, or actual walking, causes my uterus to be so tight that sometimes I don't want to move. On the up side, the varicose veins in my right calf haven't hurt for several weeks, so I haven't had to attempt the pulling on of those ridiculous ted hose in my current extra-large state. I have nooooo energy, and days spent chasing after the kids leave me feeling completely beat up. I am very lucky to have Mike around more this coming month; he is using up a bunch of personal days at work before the baby comes so that I can do as much last minute dissertation writing as possible. For the first two weeks in September, he works only 2 days a week. Honestly, dissertation writing seems easy compared to chasing after my two rowdy boys.
Still, with all the aches and pains, I'm in no hurry for this baby to make his appearance. I also still love being pregnant. Most of the time.
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