Lets Get Real

This final trimester has for sure been the hardest. I feel big. I feel heavy. I've gained a little over 30 lbs and my knees are screaming at me each time I lower myself to the toilet seat to pee. I can easily crawl into bed each night by 8 o'clock. If the pain in my hips don't get me first then I'm attempting to roll myself out of bed, moaning and grunting and needing air {did I mention I can hardly breathe}, for my bathroom break in between bathroom breaks. If I can find a comfortable position once I climb back into bed it's just about guaranteed that my heartburn or acid reflux will ruin it. I am miserable. I am ready to evict her. Now.

6 days. Monday couldn't feel further away.

I feel like I'm a magnet for unsolicited advice {and I hear that it will probably get worse once she is born}. What you should eat. What you shouldn't eat. How to sleep. How to tell what the gender of the baby is. Their opinion on the name. How to do everything! People love giving their two cents. I'm tired of all the advice. I know people mean well, but most of the tips I've received are either outdated, some quite comical or given as if I don't frequently visit a doctor. I am vowing here and now that I will keep my advice to myself unless asked!

Or how about those that say, "just wait until the baby comes!" Typically anytime I'm enjoying myself about Elliet's arrival they chime in with the dreaded comment -- as if just to make sure I don't get too excited. Clearly I don't realize that I will no longer get any sleep, or that Ryan and I will never leave the house again AND that our lives as we know it... are over.

I'm trying to maintain my sense of humor in the midst of life as a pregnant woman -- because don't get me wrong, I am extremely thankful that I am able to receive the biggest blessing of all. Honestly. I do feel that way.

So, again. 6 days. I'm counting down.