35+1. Tired. So very very tired. I am sure the fact that I am anaemic despite vast quantities of SpaTone doesn't help.
And so incredibly annoyed that when all I want to do is sleep, it's the one thing I seem incapable of doing. No sooner have I perfected my little bed nest of pillows than I realise that a) My hips hurt and I have to turn around and b) I need a wee. Repeat half hourly through the night, until my three-year-old starts bouncing on the bed and declaring that she wants breakfast.
Also, sore. My breech baby is kicking up a jig on my bladder/pelvic floor and it's enough to make me scream from time to time.
Oh, and I hate people. They keep asking me when I'm due and then giving me this disbelieving look when they find out that no, it's not tomorrow. And this has been happening for two months already!
Running out of clothes that I can wear outside the house. Getting to the point where wearing the gigantic black maternity tracksuit bottoms seems like my only option. Who cares if I expose a serious amount of lady garden in the process?
I am also really hungry in the evenings but can't let myself eat after eight as it means I have to battle serious heartburn all night. Sometimes I give in anyway.
Wow, it feels good to vent. Of course I'm delighted about the baby, but carrying it is SUCH HARD WORK.