Another Sunday, another gauntlet to run at church. I don't know what it is about church that makes me dread attending when I am so close to my due date. Maybe it's because I see everyone else around here on a daily basis, even three times a day at mealtimes, and so it's not a big deal to wake up another morning and see everyone and still be pregnant.
But when a whole week has passed between Sundays, I just feel like everyone is salivating to find out whether huge fat Bridget had her fat baby yet and will she ever stop being so huge and fat and have that baby already? Today was no different. People are nice about it, and I end up just pasting a smile on my face and saying something inane like, "here I am!" Here's to hoping that today was the last Sunday I'll have to do that.
While we're on the topic of complaining, allow me to air a few other grievances. I can see that the system of pregnancy and childbirth was intelligently designed, because by the end of it all, we ladies are willing to do just about anything to get the infant usurper out of us. Even labor. I've felt "ready" for a few weeks now, but the symptoms of being done with this pregnancy are increasing exponentially each day that goes by.
So let's go ahead and get slightly specific, if for no other reason than so I can look back and mock myself once the baby is born and laugh about how much better everything is on the other side.
1. Miriam and I have this exchange several times a day: "Mama, can I sit on your lap?" "Um, sweetie, I don't have a lap." "Why?" "Because of my big fat tummy." Repeat, repeat, repeat.
2. My number one goal in life is to seek out comfortable seating. It is really difficult to stand still for any length of time and I am always looking for a place to sit down.
3. I can't sleep. It's been progressively getting worse and last night was the hardest one yet. People are always saying it's easier when the baby is inside, but these people are lying.
4. I can't remember the last time I was physically comfortable. Everything is relative: I'm only sometimes just less uncomfortable than I was before.
5. I get heartburn from drinking water. Seriously.
6. Bending over to pick up anything I've dropped is almost impossible. The worst part is that somehow I'm clumsier than ever, so there are a lot more things to be picking up. I am fond of asking myself (or Jeremy), out loud, rhetorically: "Why do I drop things? So that I can pick them up."
7. The little things, like noticing how aware everyone is of my large girth. It's subtle, but when I'm walking around in the cafeteria, I can tell that people are leaning in toward the table when I pass by, or tucking in their chairs to allow more room for me to pass. I'm huge, I get it, OK? But thanks for your consideration.
8. The mental strain of constantly wondering when the big day will come. This one is really taking its toll.
There's more, but I feel better already having just shared these few. I was lucky enough with Miriam to start labor the day after announcing to the world - well, actually just Jeremy - that I was DONE and planned to spend the rest of the pregnancy inside our air-conditioned apartment reading books and watching movies. So maybe declaring the same thing here (minus the AC, and also the unrestricted leisure time) will have the same effect. Here goes!
But when a whole week has passed between Sundays, I just feel like everyone is salivating to find out whether huge fat Bridget had her fat baby yet and will she ever stop being so huge and fat and have that baby already? Today was no different. People are nice about it, and I end up just pasting a smile on my face and saying something inane like, "here I am!" Here's to hoping that today was the last Sunday I'll have to do that.
While we're on the topic of complaining, allow me to air a few other grievances. I can see that the system of pregnancy and childbirth was intelligently designed, because by the end of it all, we ladies are willing to do just about anything to get the infant usurper out of us. Even labor. I've felt "ready" for a few weeks now, but the symptoms of being done with this pregnancy are increasing exponentially each day that goes by.
So let's go ahead and get slightly specific, if for no other reason than so I can look back and mock myself once the baby is born and laugh about how much better everything is on the other side.
1. Miriam and I have this exchange several times a day: "Mama, can I sit on your lap?" "Um, sweetie, I don't have a lap." "Why?" "Because of my big fat tummy." Repeat, repeat, repeat.
2. My number one goal in life is to seek out comfortable seating. It is really difficult to stand still for any length of time and I am always looking for a place to sit down.
3. I can't sleep. It's been progressively getting worse and last night was the hardest one yet. People are always saying it's easier when the baby is inside, but these people are lying.
4. I can't remember the last time I was physically comfortable. Everything is relative: I'm only sometimes just less uncomfortable than I was before.
5. I get heartburn from drinking water. Seriously.
6. Bending over to pick up anything I've dropped is almost impossible. The worst part is that somehow I'm clumsier than ever, so there are a lot more things to be picking up. I am fond of asking myself (or Jeremy), out loud, rhetorically: "Why do I drop things? So that I can pick them up."
7. The little things, like noticing how aware everyone is of my large girth. It's subtle, but when I'm walking around in the cafeteria, I can tell that people are leaning in toward the table when I pass by, or tucking in their chairs to allow more room for me to pass. I'm huge, I get it, OK? But thanks for your consideration.
8. The mental strain of constantly wondering when the big day will come. This one is really taking its toll.
There's more, but I feel better already having just shared these few. I was lucky enough with Miriam to start labor the day after announcing to the world - well, actually just Jeremy - that I was DONE and planned to spend the rest of the pregnancy inside our air-conditioned apartment reading books and watching movies. So maybe declaring the same thing here (minus the AC, and also the unrestricted leisure time) will have the same effect. Here goes!