- Big. Ungainly. Awkward!
- Your thighs persist in chafing p.c., not understanding that they should just get a room. A big one.
- Every Braxton-Hicks sends you running (...er...make that shuffling painfully) to the clock with a piece of paper and pen, convinced that This.Is.It.
- Lower back pain.
- Bending over to...umm, let's see...put on socks, lotion up cankles, clip toenails, shave...is an exercise in asphyxiation.
- Nesting. As in: must clean inside of washing machine, oil cabinetry, and steam clean carpets NOW, regardless of the fact that...
- ...energy levels are non-existent.
- Popped belly buttons.
- People think you're hormonal. Just because you wig out every now and then. Honestly!
Now, if you just loved being pregnant, even during the home stretch, I've already had my puking episode for the day, so feel free to confess all.
All that aside, it is the home stretch, and it can be pretty cool, too. Baby showers, baby clothes, baby stuff...naps that offer thirty minutes of oblivion, and strangely enough, a huge awareness of and appreciation for all that the body is capable of.
Without getting too mushy, the ability of this machine that is my body to grow and nurture a life and soul separate from my own is incredible. It's inescapable, felt in every labored breath and round ligament pull...seen in the skin that roils and ripples with every hiccup or full-body shift.
So....seven weeks and counting. I'm cool with that. Cankles and all.