Venting

I'm not a complainer. Really, I'm not. I'm a glass-is-half-full, Pollyanna-type who regularly finds herself in trouble due to the aforementioned naivete, but really, I wouldn't have it any other way. Which is why, dear readers, I find myself in a conundrum. I. Am. Uncomfortable. I'm waddling. My clothes, even the huge ones, don't fit. I can't sleep. And some of those cute little kicks are getting less cute. Pregnant friends and acquaintances have shared, in their final few weeks, that they are DONE being pregnant, ready for the next round. I, apparently expecting to be immune to these final month discomforts, was in la-la land, fully and totally enjoying all things pregnancy. Until about two days ago.

Now, I will preface with a very truthful statement - I have LOVED being pregnant. I am amazed at what the body can do to grow another human. I haven't been sick. I have felt fantastic. And I know that besides being exhausted, I'm very very lucky to not have had any of the regular maladies of pregnancy (swelling, barfing, heartburn, weird skin, the list goes on. It really is a miracle that the human race continues...), it's fun to have the people in my life - both the really close ones, and the peripheral (the gals at the market, for instance) - comment on the growth and changes, and provide support. I will miss that. I will miss having this close physical connection to Poppy. I will miss the support from my fabulous husband who regularly rubs my back, draws a bath, cleans the kitchen and a million other tiny (and not so tiny) items in his already extremely busy life that not only make my day easier but make me feel supremely loved. And, the selfish part of me will miss this phase that is all about me. Next phase is all about baby.

But about two days ago, I started having inklings that perhaps, just perhaps, I'm ready to be done. And it hit me that I'm super pregnant. Mother Nature does a damn fine job of helping women past the adoration of pregnancy into the 'get this child out of me now' stage. And here are her most convincing tactics:

Lack of Sleep:
This is a big one. As a friend once put it "It's not fair or sane to pre-hobble someone before the baby arrives". I concur. Several trips to the loo each night. General hugeness of belly that absolutely forbids finding a comfortable position. Constant side-lying that puts your hip joints to sleep (um, what?). And not being 'allowed' to sleep on your back - which contributes to minor panic when I wake up on my back after being there for goodness knows how long. This all adds up to a very very tiny amount of sleep each night.

Waddling:
From about month 5 - 7 1/2 I had the pregnant-gal sashay. It was awesome. It was the height of feeling pregnant-gal sexy. But now, the sashay is long gone. The regular walk is total history. I waddle. There is nothing normal or cute or sexy about it. Waddling is for ducks and weeble-wobbles and me.

Clothes:
What clothes? I am now relegated to the world of elastic-waisted pants. Ew! Until very recently I poo-pooed the gigantic stretchy clothes, thinking that they wouldn't EVER fit, as if the rules of pregnancy somehow did not apply to me. I refused to buy exorbitant amounts of maternity clothing (a: because they are SO ugly and b: they know they have you over a barrel and force you to pay stoopid prices for ill-crafted garments. I refuse), so now I find myself with one pair of jeans, one sweater, my trusty yoga pants, and thank God for the Bella Band but even those are starting to be uncomfortable. This clothes horse finds it seriously unfair. I was pleased (and between you and me, a bit smug about) fitting into pre-preg items until very recently. And with 2 1/2 weeks to go, I will not be spending one more dime on maternity gear. No way.

General Belly Bigness:
I can't put on shoes without a fight. I run into the counters in the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door into my belly earlier today. Bizarre groans emerge when I try to haul myself off the sofa, chair, bed. I'm a yoga teacher - and I can't move!!! Did I ever have a waist-line? Pete claims he remembers my figure, but I have zero recollection.

Uncomfortableness:
Weird things hurt. Ligaments that I didn't know I had. A really cute little foot that loves to kick me in the ribs. Getting tickled from the inside. Remember that fall I took exactly one year ago where I flashed the UPS guy? Well, that back injury is back in full force due to shifting joints and bones.

I'll stop. And take a moment to reiterate that I really have enjoyed the entire ride. And the whole thing is a miracle - I feel guilty even mentioning any of the negative stuff in light of such a fabulous experience. But I'm starting to feel like a host. And perhaps, Mother Nature is even starting to prepare this Pollyanna for labor.