Today it happened.
I had my very first "oh-god-I-am-so-sick-of-being-pregnant" meltdown. Ever.
I wasn't expecting that to happen. I fully expect to be pregnant for two more weeks or so. As far as discomforts go, I'm doing really well. Minimal swelling, minimal heartburn. I haven't gained too much weight, my appetite is great, my back isn't really bothering me. Yes, my pelvis is sore, and I do have to pee a lot. I could be getting more sleep at night but the lack of sleep is almost always counteracted by really awesome naps during the day. I'm actually doing remarkably well considering how far along I am.
I was on the phone with my mom earlier this evening, feeling groggy and out of sorts, and all of a sudden I just started crying. The words just began pouring out of me.
I'm so tired of being pregnant.
I'm so tired of wondering how this birth is going to go.
I'm so tired of our really shitty financial situation.
I'm so tired of thinking about our unresolved insurance issue.
I'm so tired of thinking how difficult it will be to have two children.
I'm so tired of not having any clothes that fit.
I'm so tired of feeling ugly and huge and frumpy.
I'm so tired of not knowing what to do with my life - or rather, not knowing how to make it happen.
I'm so tired of waiting.
It really is the waiting that's killing me. The unknown. And then I look at the messy house and the laundry that needs to be folded and the phone calls that need to be made and the bills that need to be paid and the child that needs to be fed/changed/held/read to/put down for a nap and I feel so lost and tired down to the very depths of my bones. I don't know why I want to hurry up and stop being pregnant because it's not going to get any easier once Burt Reynolds is born. Maybe I'm just ready to meet the little dude who's making my hormones go absolutely crazy.
I don't know what else to say. I'm having a momentary lapse of sanity and a really tough night.