If it weren't for all those lovely pregnancy hormones that are like a constant heroin drip, I would probably have had a major breakdown by now.
I hurt all over. All the time. Physically, I have never been so miserable in my life. And I'm having issues at work that are preventing me from working from home this week like I had planned. It's hard to sit, hard to lay down, hard to stand, impossible to sleep, and impossible to be comfortable.
But somehow I still find myself singing and bouncing along to happy music in the car and smiling at strangers and generally being annoyingly happy. Only poor B ever sees my bad side, mostly in the evenings when I am exhausted, but know I won't be able to sleep.
But we are only days away from finally getting to meet our son. If he hasn't decided to make his grand entrance by next Friday, he will very possibly be forced out. Currently, he is estimated to be about 8 pounds, so I'm a little frightened of waiting too long.
This is surreal.
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1 comment:
The common saying is 9 months, but we all know the possible range is pretty big... I don't want to scare you Steph, but among my family and friends, there have been quite a few babies born 2-4 weeks after due date. And 8 pounds is an excellent weight.
Annie
[somehow I'm imagining you tapping out a post from a laptop as your husband drives you to the hospital!]
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