Those last 10-ish weeks. I don’t love them. Why?
- The dreaded Sneeze-pee.
- Feeling like my pubic arch is going to snap in half.
- Patience. I’m not notorious for being the most patient person ever but those last 10 weeks just about anything can push me spiraling towards a ::face palm:: or a ::head desk::
- Waddling. Who likes to waddle? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
- Heartburn. Constant, before food, during food, after food, after Tums. Bah!
- Waiting. We remember the waiting. Susan was told the pregnancy gods owed her 5 days after her first… but she didn’t get them ‘paid back’ the second time around, she had to wait. I’d like to think I’m owed some days too but somehow I’m thinking no.
- Socks. Putting on something as simple as socks becomes an Olympic event. (And not a fun one to watch like gymnastics or curling.)
- Kung Fu. Fetal movement which was cute and not painful for the second trimester becomes much more OW and a lot less Aww.
- Decisions. I don’t know about anyone else out there but I become essentially incapable of making decisions. “What’s for lunch?” is as paralyzing as “Mommy where do babies come from?”
- Paranoid thoughts. I blame the pregnancy hormones for these but they can range from ‘my friends really hate me, they’re just faking it’ to ‘my husband is going to leave me’ (this one comes fully equipped with fun nightmares) to ‘I’m forgetting something, and it’s life-threateningly important.’
- The Waiting, did I mention the waiting? I’m so ready to meet my other Musketeer I’m ready to be done being pregnant right now… almost. (If it weren’t for that whole pesky preemie thing.)