Incubating

I love being pregnant. Really. Some women think I'm crazy, but I do. Love it. Sure, the first 3 months aren't really a picnic, but the rest of it more than makes up for it. I don't get pelvic pressure, don't wake up to pee often, my sciatic nerve is an occasional annoyance, but not painful. When I hit 14ish weeks and started feeling the baby move, I was in HEAVEN! At one point I even started feeling bad that Tyler didn't get to be pregnant and feel what I got to feel every day, every hour. I think about being a surrogate a lot- that's how much I love being pregnant. I would be a surrogate if it weren't for our infertility issues that would probably disqualify me from doing it and the whole having to gain weight part (because losing weight, I know well, isn't a picnic). My doctor thinks I'm crazy because I keep telling him I WANT a late baby. We've even argued over my due date because I wanted it to be later. I'm a very unique OB patient. Love big, healthy, very full term babies. Pregnancy, for me, is simply divine.

Me at almost 29 weeks... Before you go judging my hugeness (and it is huge) let's remember a few things. #1. This is baby #3. I'm allowed to be ginormous. #2. My doctor is perfectly satisfied that I haven't gained too much weight. In fact, he says I've only gained 17 big ones. #3. Whatever, okay? I need to get over my hugeness more than you. I'm well aware that although I love pregnancy, I'm not thrilled with how I wear it.

Now that you firmly understand my love of gestation, I have to say, if I drop one more thing I'm going to scream! Yesterday I dropped a plastic container of freezer jam. Strawberry jam EVERYWHERE! Today, a home canned jar of peaches strewn across the clean (MOPPED!!!) kitchen floor. Tyler kindly cleaned it up for me, but alas, the floor is still horribly sticky, which means I'll be mopping the floor for the second time this week as soon as I step away from the computer. The other day I dropped a piece of garbage while I was bending over to open the cupboard with the trash can. Instinctively, I used one hand to pick up what I dropped and the other to finish my task (opening the cupboard) resulting in a whack to the face with the corner of the cupboard door. So if you see me around the 'Burg, yes, that is a purple bruise on my face, and, no, my husband doesn't hit me in the face, I do it to myself. All because I just can't keep anything in my hot little hand! Gggrrr.


And I am so very tired of pregnant dreams. I wake up every morning in the worst mood. I'm either depressed or angry because of whatever was floating in my head while I snoozed. Today I was very near tears 5 minutes after I woke up, and I knew it was mostly because of a dream I had that I couldn't remember, but I couldn't shake this sadness. Hormones + wacky dreams = nutso me!!! And you would think that my beautiful new duvet (find it here) would entice only beautiful, peaceful dreaming, wouldn't you? But such is not the case. (hubs came through in a big way for V-day, didn't he??? I guess all my not-so-subtle hints did the trick!) Any tips about the dreams, moms who know?


Maybe these scones I'm making this afternoon will help. I'll let you know. They have a pound of butter, so we're pretty sure they're going to taste delish, right?


And regardless of my rant, I really do love being pregnant. A lot. Have I said it enough? These minor complaints DO NOT over shadow my love for pregnancy.

And Gabrielle,

I know you are half way across the world,

but when you get home,

I just want you to know,

this was all for YOU!

Happy late birthday!