Pregnancy has such an effect on your view of time. It goes so quickly some weeks and so slow other weeks. As I entered the 8th month, I started to fool myself into thinking I’m almost there. But the reality is that I still have 7 to 9 weeks (remember, I reluctantly plan on a 40-42 week gestation), which seems like a daunting amount of time. And if one more person comes up to me and asks, “Any day now?“, I may just go ahead and sucker punch them. The other nice folk that grab me a shopping cart when they see me, my pregnant belly, and my 18 month old coming toward the grocery store door can stay my friend, and thus avoid the sucker punch.
I’m feeling good this week. I feel incredibly lucky to have what other’s refer to as “easy” pregnancies. I’m sleeping good and am relatively comfortable most days. In fact, I’m usually at a loss for words when someone asks how I’m feeling. The question seems to suggest that I’m suffering from some ailment but more times than not, I simply feel pregnant: Larger than normal and tired from time to time. I guess I should thank my lucky stars tonight.