The only times in my life I’ve wished for pain is the last three weeks of all six of my pregnancies. Contractions are regular and constant for me at the end, more so this time than ever before, and all I can wish for is for them to get harder. More painful. End this adventure. Bring on Baby. I go to bed hoping to wake up to labor – in spite of never having gone into labor in the night before – and every morning, I’m still breathing normally. I. hate. the. end. I rather hate the pain of labor as well, but I love meeting Baby.Can we just get this over with, please?!
Besides, I’m tired of trying to find anything that fits. If you see me in the same outfit for the next how-many-ever-days this drags on for, just assume it’s the only thing that fits. Or the only thing that’s clean, if my belly is sticking out. Sterling really, really enjoys telling me that my belly is sticking out from his underbelly perspective.
Come on, Baby.
I’m there with ya! Lots of contractions, but not ever any harder! And nothing that fits!