Aaaaaand...I'm done.

I know the last thing any of you want to read about it me complaining about this pregnancy...but oh. my. GOD. I'm dying.

Seriously.

I don't remember being THIS uncomfortable with Little G for this long.  And I seem to be much more anxious about having another baby than I was about having the first...which makes sense...I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I'm actually pretty nonchalant about the whole birthing process.  I went over my birth plan from Little G and pretty much laughed at how specific I was.  (I guess now I can understand a LITTLE bit more why the doctors and nurses at my SIL's hospital roll their eyes whenever a 1st time mom comes in with a birth plan.  Rumor is they have a pool on if mom's with birth plans will go C-section...but you didn't hear that here.)  But yeah, while it would be nice to wear my own clothes and have a dimly lit room and have people talk in hushed voices and not have anyone yelling numbers at me...I'm pretty much ok with whatever may or may not go down.

Bringing baby home...now that's another story.  I am totally freaked out.  But...trying to remain calm.  I mean, my biggest issue will be getting Little G out the door and to daycare with a newborn in the mix...on the weekends, my husband will be home and we'll be able to tag team.

But for now, I am trying very, very hard to live in the moment.  It's just hard to live in the moment when the moment includes constipation, painful Braxton-hicks contractions, exhaustion, hunger, lack-of appetite, an excruciatingly painful pelvic issue whereby my pelvis is apparently ready to give birth and has completely let go of any control that might have allowed it to NOT feel like I was continually being kicked in the groin and the sense that a 5,000 lb baby is trying to exit out my very, VERY stretched belly button.