Warning: this is a whiny post. Read at your own risk.

I love my daughter. She’s not even here yet, but I know that she’s going to be a pretty amazing kid. I can already tell that she’s kinda spunky, pretty sweet, and strong. She kicks and wiggles nearly non stop, but will calm down if I rub her back. Tonight her dad talked to her on the side of my belly where she isn’t laying, and she scooted over to get closer to his voice! She loves Need to Breathe and dances like crazy during the music at church. The cleft in her lip has grown together leading me believe that this little girl is a fighter like her momma. She’s going to be pretty special.


I am so done being pregnant with her.

I’m done waking up in the middle of the night with heartburn. I’m miss getting up in the morning and going for a run. I need to eat food that has garlic in it, cause let’s face it, garlic is in everything delicious. I want to wear more than just the 6 skirts and dresses I own that still fit. I crave a Captain and diet – and preferably I’d enjoy that while standing in the back of a bar for a few hours at a local rock concert. I kinda like having ankles; more importantly, I like not having the skin on my ankles hurt from stretching to accommodate the swelling. I long for energy – yes, I know babies cause sleep deprivation – but now I get plenty of sleep and still can hardly function. I never want to cry again. I want to sleep on my stomach. I’d love to have the mental capacity to read an actual book! It’d be lovely to bend over or get out of the car without breaking a sweat.

I’m am beyond grateful that I was able to be pregnant, but now, at 35 weeks, I’m just done. Can any active moms relate?


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