Whoever said that patience is a virtue must have known that I would be born without it.
I am probably one of the most impatient people I know.
I'm not kidding.
I wake up impatient. "How much longer till I can go back to bed?" "Why is it taking so long to blow dry my hair?" "Isn't it 3:30 yet?" These are the thoughts that run continually through my head ALL DAY LONG!
So being pregnant...haha..that's like the ultimate cruel joke for me.
Not only do I have to wait patiently,
I have to do it for 9 (10, really) STINKING MONTHS?!?!?!?!
Now I'll admit, the first 30 weeks were a piece of cake.
Sure, I complained...a lot.
But hey, I'm growing a human being here...give me a break.
I really enjoyed the ooh's and aww's of being pregnant, all the conversations that links us moms together.
I enjoyed growing out of my real jeans and into my stretchy jeans and I really enjoyed that cute little "bump" that started developing, FINALLY, after like 7 months of hearing "you don't even look pregnant!"
I especially enjoyed the cute littles kicks and jabs that our little growing person enjoyed pelting my insides with pretty much all day long.
I was quite enamored with being pregnant.
Then I entered into the last 10 weeks or so if this shindig.
All of a sudden, pregnancy isn't as pleasant as it was.
My stretchy pants have became a torture device, adding even more pressure to things like lungs that are required for breathing in and out.
Conversations have turned from "you look so cute" to "you are looking kinda puffy today."
And those cute little kicks and jabs?
Try to imagine Jackie Chan going all Kung-Fu fighting on your insides.
Yeah, that explains it pretty well.
(Even now, Baby O has decided to practice its percussion technique on my rib-cage.
I went to the Dr. today and was told that I was exactly where I should be and that I should be on the watch these next 5 weeks.
Five more weeks.
*Insert 2-year old wailing here.*
I must interject here that at times I do feel kinda silly complaining so much.
I mean, like I said, this pregnancy has been stellar so far.
No throwing up, no creepy veins, perfect weight gain,
I couldn't have asked for a better pregnancy.
But is it selfish to admit that I'm so over it.
I'm ready for this little person to be out of my stomach and in my arms?
I'm sure that some of you are reading this and thinking "you think you're miserable now, wait till weeks 39 and 40."
And I get that...
But this is where my impatience comes back to bite me in the butt.
I am done waiting.
Done trying to picture what Baby O is going to look like.
Done reading every old wives tale in the book to figure out if its going to be Baby Gavin or Baby Adeline.
Done having my ribs pushed out of place. (Really, that happens.)
Done acting like the biggest baby in the world in front of my husband.
Done. Done. Done.
In the meantime...
I guess I will just have to sit around impatiently awaiting the arrive of Baby O.
In the words of my mother:
"Lord, give my patience, but HURRY!"