We only have 4 weeks to go, unless Gummy decides to be fashionably late. I don’t even like thinking about that possibility right now. The weekly doctor’s visits will start this week and, if I remember correctly, the weekly pelvic exams. Yippee! I don’t even care what my nether regions probably look like at this point. I’m ready for this ride to be over.
I’ve been getting cranky at work. If you saw my post yesterday, you could probably tell. I’ve been quite the trooper, but my hormones got the better of me. I have a history of holding things in until I explode all over the place, so I guess my coworkers were lucky that I just posted a blog instead of bringing an automatic rifle to work yesterday.
Sitting all day in an office chair is murder on my pelvis and back. I groan and my body aches when I stand up. If I don’t stand and walk around, then my ankles become swollen to an outlandish size. It’s really a no win situation. I long for the weekends, so I can put my feet up and have cute ankles again. I also am forced to wear a buttoned up cardigan all day at work to cover up my tits and tattoos, because they can be very offensive to the old ladies that parade in and out of here. I say the ladies, because the men never really seemed to have a problem with either. Do you know what happens when you put a pregnant lady in her third trimester in a sweater and don’t keep the air on? Hot flashes. Sweating. Hyperventilation. Panic attacks. It ain’t pretty. I feel like I’m dying until that blast of cold, sweet air hits my head.
Did I mention I was ready to be done? I did? Oh. Let’s move on, then.
Last Friday we finally got our last ultrasound. It was postponed over a week because of a scheduling mishap at the doctor, so my level of anticipation was overwhelming. I had a dream that I removed my unborn child from my womb, played with her and talked to her, oohed and aahed over her preciousness, then placed her back in because it wasn’t time for her to come yet. She was clean and fully clothed. Weird.
There she is. All 5lbs 11oz of her. She has chubby cheeks, lots of hair, and big feet just like myself and Mini Me. With the exception of getting just a few more things for her and putting up some shelves, I think we’re ready. We can’t wait to meet her. Mike has a little game going on Facebook, trying to guess what day she’s coming and her birth weight. I’m hoping for a little early or on Mother’s Day, because how kick ass would that be?