(Okay, not the most flattering of pictures. I now have a vague idea of what I'd look like bald . . . and pregnant . . . and eating raw peas at the boys' football practice this morning.)
Well, folks, I thought this day would never come.
Somehow, I fooled myself into believing I was different from 99% of the pregnant population.
Full of energy and vigor to the very end.
Jokes on me . . . completely.
Perhaps some of my exhaustion is from weeks of family get-togethers.
Perhaps its just reality--I AM pregnant.
And my body is tired.
And stretching (sometimes my belly-button just hurts).
And . . . miraculously creating a beautiful little life.
Every morning as I heave myself out of bed (heaving is NO exaggeration) and stand half-bent, taking my first labored steps to the bathroom, I am reminded that, at times, even love can feel almost too heavy to bear up.
Yet I can't deny the coolness that without my doing anything (except living the day to day), there's a BABY growing inside of me. Miracle. Seriously.
I guess I better heave myself into bed and make this heaving come full-circle--out of bed and back in again. I'd hate to miss out on a full experience. Wah-hah, tell me another one, Lanette.
Sweet dreams, All. Until tommorow, when the heaving begins . . . again.
p.s. for those more curious souls, here's my definition of heaving: whilst lying in bed, raising one's leg straight up and catapulting it down, thereby using momentum to thrust my upper-half up into a sitting position. Not pretty . . . trust me on this one.