Wow. 3rd trimester has hit me like a ton of bricks. I went from adorably rotund to FUCK MY LIIIIIIIIIFE I AM AN ENORMOUS HUMAN DIRIGIBLE AND JUST THE THOUGHT OF MOVING AROUND WEARS ME OUT. This happened over the course of about a week and a half. Yikes. The kid has taken to wedging himself up under my lungs, which makes breathing a bit of a hassle. It could be circumstantial or psychosomatic or whatever, but it definitely feels like my brain is running on a bit of an oxygen deficit. And that doesn’t even address the kicking. Dear lord the kicking.
(Yeah, I complain, but I’m actually feeling pretty indulgent of the little critter. “Aww,” I think, he just dug his little heels into my bladder, how utterly adorable!” In case I haven’t mentioned it before, pregnancy makes you factually crazy.)
Of course, some of this could be the exhaustion doing the talking here. Dad flew out today so we finally have the apartment to ourselves again, thank jebus. In the time Dad was here I also had 3 doctor appointments, the third of which was this morning, which I remembered literally as I was walking out the door to go to work. Luckily I have to leave well in advance of the start of my shift if I take the train, so I still had time to breeze thru the appointment and then drive to work. I was only 20 minutes late. Not bad for being on the ragged edge of sanity, if you ask me.
TL;DR I’m so amazingly done right now. It’s 8:30 and I’m already in bed and I don’t even care.