|Psst Stacey... clean your mirror....|
It is only that I just ate something with sugar in it that I have the energy to bring this to you today.
While I know full well the last four (five? six? who knows!) will likely fly by, it feels in this moment like the end is a hundred years away. A hundred exhausting years.
I measured my stomach, which now appears to house an actual baby as opposed to a hoax one, and I am exactly the same size as I was with Abby at 36 weeks - so apparently very normal! Granted, everything's sitting a lot lower, but it's still pretty much average. No head engagement yet, just a hell of a lot of cartwheels (still!), which makes me think there might be a chance this one is slightly smaller than 9lb - there was no way Abby was moving her whole body this much at this stage. I get a few kicks in odd places which makes me squeak, and I know that it's just going to get bigger and stronger and I'll get weaker and weaker, Voldemort-style and soon I'll be wondering if it will kick clear through my skin.
As I was saying on Twitter the other day, it feels like I simultaneously swallowed a struggling wombat while being hit by a truck. The end is nigh, people!
Oh and I have a delightful pinched nerve thingy (not sciatica, to my knowledge) in my groin so my leg often gives way with a twinge beneath me and I half-shriek, half-giggle while lurching around like a maniac. This is especially fun in public places.
And while I'm at it, sleep (when I can get it) sucks. And I'm dreading the thought of how ragged I will be run when little dude arrives and there's two-hour feedings around the clock. My way of dealing with it right now is to ignore that fact until I cannot any longer! Abby still needs me at times in the middle of the night and I have to get into bed with her... this is going to be an interesting juncture in my sleep life. I predict musical beds and a lot of mandatory day-time napping.
I shall continue to waddle my way to the end. 40 week update, here I come!