Twenty more days. Not that I'm counting or anything. Of course baby's birthday could come earlier, and at this point, I would not argue with the little man. It is no secret that I am actually terrified about our newest addition. Sure I had moments of fear and doubt with my first two pregnancies, but life is harder now. I have two young boys who are anything but easy-going. I live far from family and my closest friends. Adding a newborn to what I would already describe as chaos is a bit overwhelming.
Still, I'm telling you I am done with this pregnancy bit. It would be an understatement if I told you that I was slowing down in these final weeks. I'm moving at a snails pace, I'm overwhelmed with exhaustion much of the time. This is different than with my previous pregnancies. I am just without energy. I feel as if I could sleep forever, and yet I don't sleep. I don't sleep because of the acid that is relentlessly burning a hole in my esophagus. While I would desperately like to dig into a pint of Ben & Jerry's right now, that joy has been snatched away, enjoying a late night treat has dire consequences. A whole night lying awake swallowing back acid.
I will spare you the entire laundry list of pregnancy related complaints and sum it up. I'm tired. Too tired to blog. Done. Ready to enter the next phase of my life, no matter how crazy it may be.