It’s 3:30 AM and I can’t get any sleep. Tried to go to bed just past 11, but what with boyfriend’s snoring, restless legs, energetic baby and general emotional turmoil, I couldn’t shut down.
Earlier in the evening, we’d had over some friends for dinner, but the evening didn’t go particularly well. I have been having a lot of snaps lately, and people are pissing me off left, right and center. It’s not their faults. I’m just super moody these days. But unfortunately, I feel like I’m alienating everyone I care about.
Mark keeps reminding me that I’m surrounded by people who love me and that he will take all manner of mood swings on the chin, as I am going to be giving birth to his son very very soon. He’s super supportive (at least he is when he’s not calling me fat…) and I feel ultra guilty every time I snap at him.
I’m also stressed because the midwife came by today and basically told me that I’m being overly optimistic if I think the baby is going to stay in until my mother arrives on the 2nd of February. As I’m not due until the 15th, this fills me with trepidation. My poor mama is braving international airplane travel just to see her grandson born, and I would be gutted if she missed it.
The OB told me yesterday that they think they’re going to induce me at 38 weeks, which is the day before my mother arrives. But the final decision on induction date won’t be made for another two weeks, when I have my final growth scan to determine how necessary it will be. I still reckon I’ll hold on until nearer 40 weeks, but obviously I can’t predict the future.
Really, I just want it all to be over and the baby to be here, safe and healthy. I’m tired of pregnancy. Utterly and totally exhausted by it all.
I hate being fat and swollen and gross.
I hate my skin, which has become drier and oilier at the same time.
I hate my hair which doesn’t deign to listen to me when I want it to be a certain way.
I hate having to change my knickers three times a day due to continuous fears of infection.
I hate that my breasts have become gigantic and ugly and sagging.
I hate that I’ve now developed stretch marks on my belly.
I hate that my back is always hurting, my belly’s always moving, my crotch is always on fire and my legs are always tired.
I hate that I can’t rise from the couch without someone’s assistance.
I hate that I feel needy and useless.
I just want my life back, with the addition of a tiny little baby who will allow me the opportunity to love him for the rest of my days.
And right now, more than anything, I just want to go to sleep.