I am now at the stage of my pregnancy where I am my most sensitive and emotionally raw... where nothing in my maternity closet seems to fit... where I look at myself in the mirror and don't see anything pretty (I am amply reassured though that I still look the same)...
Today for example, I got angry at my husband for not having given away boxes of chocolate that we bought months ago for his co-workers. I held on to that resentment the whole day.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IT'S JUST CHOCOLATE!!!
Okay, it's nearly time for this child to exit my womb and enter the world.
She shifts... she kicks... she hiccups... she kicks some more. It's definitely becoming more uncomfortable for me having her in there. I know she needs to stay housed in me a little longer (the better to get healthy and strong), and I'm only too glad to accommodate, but yeah. I require assistance getting out of bed in the morning (once I'm up, I'm fine)... I can't reach my feet when I shower, as bending down is something I can't do anymore... I turn sideways towards the mirror, and my silhouette resembles that of Alfred Hitchcock. With breasts.
My doctor tells me things will only get worse, but that there is a reprieve on the horizon prior to my delivery date. When she descends into my pelvis, then I can get a bit more room to breathe. Sweet relief. But that'll also be my sign that she's arriving soon, and that means a deadline to get her stuff in order and ready... it means I'll have to pack soon for the trip to the hospital.
Two more weeks at least. It's nearly time.
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