Braxton-Hicks? Yeah, they kind of suck.
There is no time at which I do not feel like I have to pee.
I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that my fetus is a scientific genius, even in utero, and has embarked on some kind of crazy physics/engineering experiment in which the elasticity of the human frame is tested to its very limits. My tummy doesn’t get any bigger, kid. It’s just not physically possible.
I am not enjoying this waiting game. I consider myself a fairly patient person in many respects, but when it comes to shit happening to my body, not so much. I yanked my first baby teeth out right after my 6th birthday, waaaaaaay before they were really loose. I pick scabs. I pop blisters. I know I’m not at week 40 yet, but I’m still considered “full term.” WHAT’S THE HOLD UP???
Last night, Mr. Squab confessed that he’s afraid he’s going to “freak out” and “have a panic attack” after the baby comes. For some reason, I found this extremely funny. Is that wrong?