I'm looking forward to going into labor and giving birth, because that would mean that I don't have to be pregnant anymore. Or, ever again.
Last week I was full of hope and happiness and appreciation for all things life had to offer. This week, I just want to lay in bed with a pillow over my head and cry. Thing is, I know I have nothing to cry about. I've got the best life in the world. I'm having a perfectly normal and healthy pregnancy. Yet, even knowing all of this, I can't seem to get past the whole being-pregnant-sucks-ten-kinds-of-ass feeling I'm wallowing in right now.
I need to snap out of it because I'm becoming increasingly worthless to my family. It takes all my energy to vacuum one area rug. I leave the laundry unfolded in the dryer for days. I'm totally phoning it in when I read Alex his books and he's watching more TV than I care to admit. It wouldn't bother me so much if I were only a week or two from the due date, but I've got more than TWO MONTHS left. It's going to be a very long two months.
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