We ran some errands this morning. I ran into the grocery store to return a redbox movie, took the girls to the library for some new books and mailed a forgotten pillow back to its owner at the PO. Afterwards I felt like I ran a half marathon, or worse. I seriously felt better after running 13.1miles than I did today getting in and out of the car a few times. For some, pregnancy isn't bad. If fact some women love being pregnant. It has rewarding moments, I know, like when I lay down at night and the baby wiggles like a basenji with tape stuck on its back. And don't get me wrong, I am very grateful that I am able to have children, unlike so many women who want to and can't. And, of course, the end result, a beautiful newborn baby, makes the entire 40 weeks all worth it. But I seriously feel like I am 93 years old right now. Simple things that I used to not even think were difficult, simple parts of life, like bending over for instance, are getting just too difficult. The fact that I am very impatient to meet this little one doesn't help my frustration.
So I'm pretty much miserable. So let me harp for just 193 characters:
My hips feel like they are out of joint and kill when I walk. I am always out of breath. I can't sit or stand for extended periods of time (I will spare you the details of that one.) The baby is in my ribs and it hurts! I am SO tired. My feet hurt.
WHAAAA, WHAAAAA, WHAAAA!
Ok, I'm done. 6 days, 6 days, 6 days... that's all.
I guess I just needed to express some frustration today. Don't feel sorry for me or feel the need to encourage me to "hang in there." I know that it will be over soon and that this is what every pregnant woman feels during the last week of pregnancy. At least I haven't had heartburn for a few days, right?
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