Only the last week or so has been truly uncomfortable. My feet look like overstuffed sausages. I walk like a duck. The smallest physical effort–climbing a flight of stairs, for example–requires the focus and concentration of a professional athlete. I’ve never been in particularly great shape, but prior to this I could easily walk a mile or two without feeling the strain or having to stop for breath. Now? The idea of walking any distance greater than a couple car lengths is laughable. My body has never felt so cumbersome and foreign.
We’ve also discovered that our dear daughter is breech, which could throw a wrench into our granola-hippy home birth plans. We’ll know more on Monday. As I’ve told Tim, she’s not even out of the womb yet and she’s already defiant and stubborn… we’re doomed. And I mean that in the most loving, motherly way possible!
All the drama, all the discomfort… is it worth it? Yes. I’m trying to be positive.
But ask me again in another week. 😉