Bittersweet

This is it, the final night of my pregnancy. It seems like it took FOREVER to get here. But now that the time is upon us, I’m feeling, well, a little wishy-washy.

Don’t get me wrong, I am SO READY to not be pregnant. I am not one of those ladies that pregnancy agrees with. In fact, I can’t fathom any reason why (other than procreation) anyone would want to be pregnant. Surrogate mothers? Holy crap, that would be my own personal hell. So let me see here – you want to implant your alien into my gut, let me flounder around with it for 9 months, and then you get to keep it? Ummmm….no. There isn’t enough money in the world.

Maybe it’s because I am completely ADD and can’t take my meds while there is a baby growing inside of me. Can you believe it? Certain members of the medical community frown upon taking amphetamines during pregnancy! Really? So I’m about 500 times more spaz than normal. Or maybe it’s because I’m 5’2” and try to keep my weight in the 120’s – but my husband is 6’2” and about 200 lbs. – and he’s now 5-0 with creating babies weighing in over eight and a half pounds. Or maybe it’s because I have NO TORSO WHATSOEVER. Seriously. There is like 2 inches between the top of my hip bone and the bottom of my rib cage. Where else is the baby supposed to go besides straight out front?

Whatever the reason – I am not one of those lovely, glowing ladies that look so happy and radiant and marvelous with the new life growing inside of them. I’m crabby, spastic, restless and slightly more neurotic than usual. I’m larger at 36 weeks than most women would be a 42 weeks, and haven’t slept more than 3 hours straight since August. I have consumed 3 large bottles of TUMS (the SAM’s Club size) and my poor husband (whom usually sleeps in shorts and a t-shirt) has been forced to sleep in a sweatshirt since I closed off the heat vent to our room and insist on sleeping with the ceiling fan on.

That being said, I’m also a little sad that this is the last night I will lay in bed and feel a new life rolling around inside my tummy. He likes to tickle the right side of my belly with his feet. He also gets the hiccups several times a day, and then gets mad at the hiccups and starts kicking and rolling around, almost as if trying to get rid of them. He likes to poke his elbows out at me, and when I poke him back, he pokes me more, and traces my hand with his elbow. I’m almost certain he recognizes Gavin’s voice. He talks to him daily, he’s the perfect height for the baby to hear, and he sometimes gets quiet when Gavin starts rambling on (this may come in handy later). I’m gonna miss Gavin hugging and talking to my belly, and the way his eyes light up when he talks about being a big brother.

I will miss the knowing glances and the excitement of ultrasounds and new baby clothes. Maybe I am romanticizing slightly, but since this is our last child, I am a little sad that I won’t ever have this feeling again.

Snap back to reality. I have to pee again. There is a humongous head squashing my bladder and colon, making every sneeze or cough VERY dangerous, and I am slightly regretting tonight’s gorge-fest at Olive Garden. Sigh, I guess I will go find my trusty bottle of TUMS and try to get a few hours of sleep tonight.

This time tomorrow, I should be the proud mommy of a new baby boy.