I still feel a little ridiculous writing a pregnancy post at this stage. Obviously any number of things could go wrong at any given time. I mean, I walk around wearing a panty liner all day long because I am really terrified and I don't count my babies before they hatch, as they say.
Yet...you never know. This may be my last pregnancy. And I definitely look back on my daughter's pregnancy and infant days and wish I had documented a bit more. I don't want to look back on this and wish I'd marked the occasions a bit more accurately.
As far as symptoms go, I've had it pretty easy so far. Enough to feel pregnant, but not enough to make me miserable. Really really sore boobs. Some morning nausea that passes quickly. Some extra sleepiness. Nothing too serious.
I would like to announce that I pretty much dislike everyone I know or have recently come into contact with. "Dislike" is my nice word for it. I think I may be slightly out of bounds but I just can't stop it. And the main target of my dislike? His name is Jerry. I have previously referred to him here under such endearing terms as Prince Charming and The Love of My Life. Not these days folks. Now before you start feeling all sorry for him, just stop. I haven't hurt him yet. I just don't like him right now. I love him still. I just really don't like him. Comprende? Good. I just don't understand how I can be 7 years into a relationship with this man (and our 3rd pregnancy) and still have failed to rid him of any of his bad/extremely annoying habits. I mean, he behaves exactly the same way no matter how much breath I waste begging, yelling, pleading, nagging, gently reminding, or screeching at him to alter the behavior or attitude. It's just the usual things that always annoy me-- except now they are driving me absolutely insane. I know it's hormones. I know they could potentially be making me a little crazy. But why doesn't he realize this and alter the behavior to save himself?
Disclaimer: Please do not think I am a terrible person for complaining about him on my blog. Jerry doesn't read here often, so I am assuming that if he does it will be a long time from now and we'll have a good laugh about it. But trust me, I've already said this all to him. He knows.
Also, I'm apparently a crier now. Crying isn't something I approve of. It's fine for other people, but I prefer bad moods and rage to crying. Yet, I cry.
On a brighter, less hormonal note I am trying to soak up the last days of the Kiddo being an only child. Soon the attention will be divided, but for now it's still all hers. She is getting so big. I know she will be a great big sister, but I am braced for a rough transition.