Time seemed to be buzzing by, it seemed like I only knew what week of pregnancy I was in because I was blogging about it. Now time has slowed and July feels like forever away. I’m tired. I’m still sleeping good, but for whatever reason my back aches like hell when I’m on my left side so I can only sleep on my right side. That is, until the arm I’m lying on falls asleep and I have to switch to my left side, which is only temporary because then my back starts hurting. You get the idea. And worst of all, I find myself secretly planning on and hoping for an early delivery. Why is this dangerous, you ask? Because Hooper stayed cookin’ in the pot until I was nearly 42 weeks and had to evacuate him from the womb. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but those two weeks being post-due were absolutely emotionally excruciating. Those two weeks have formed my number one advice given to first time mom’s: Plan on a 42 week gestational period. As my due date passed, it started to feel like the gap between my due date and a supposed expiration date was closing. To avoid this turmoil, I’ve opted to go with the latest possible due date and in my own head I’ve added a week or so on to this. But, with time now beginning to slow the idea of cutting a month off this pregnancy and still giving birth to a full-term baby is more than tantalizing. In any case, I hate to complain this early on. I know things are bound to get bigger and more uncomfortable and at this point, I ought to praise the pregnancy gods that I can still put my shoes on and even bend over to tie the laces. And, of course, I’d also like to praise the pregnancy gods for this beautiful gift growing inside me. It may bring discomfort and fatigue and all that good stuff, but with each little jab, wiggle, and kick, I’m reminded that it truly is a blessing and the best gift I’ll ever be given.