I have officially went into another phase of my pregnancy. I can't sleep for more than thirty minutes without waking up. If I stand for more than ten minutes, I feel nauseated and hot. I hate going to bed because every part of my body hurts when I sleep. I'm up until 1 in the morning watching endless zombie and Halloween flicks on AMC, FX and SyFi. (Don't ask why I like scary movies, my husband doesn't understand either. I have to literally make him watch them with me.) And the infomercials on at 1 in the morning are not much better: dehydraters, plastic wall moldings, The Magic Bullet, The Baby Bullet, and the Thunder Coat for Dogs. Not that I watch them for more than five minutes.
Yes, the world of the midnight, early morning people who are up and about (usually in a recliner) is not a fun world to be in. The television sucks, everyone in the house (including the pets) are either snoring or dead asleep. And I am here, waiting. Waiting for five weeks to come so I can breathe and sleep again. But it is part of the journey, right? I know I sound like I'm complaining a lot. But being eight months pregnant is hard. You're more than ready to get the job done.
I went to another ultrasound last week and the baby is NOW 7 lbs. 10 ounces. The doctor said I'm just going to have a big baby. Maybe he's going to be as tall as a basketball player, who knows? Our daughter is really tall. The doctor isn't worried about diabetes because he said the head and stomach are the same size. Meanwhile, I guess it's back to sitting in a chair, waiting for a contraction to start.
If only men knew what they were missing.
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