9 plus.

I'm officially over nine months pregnant. This is crap. Pregnancy is technically 9 mos. + 1 week, so I'm well into that lovely little +1 week. And on Wednesday, I'll enter the 2nd one. Meaning, if this kiddo decides to stay put until the end of the month (when I check myself into Labor & Delivery with or without the consent of my OB and use xmas cookies to bribe the nice nurses to hook me up to Pitocin), I'll be 9.5 months pregnant. Nine AND A HALF. I didn't sign on for that.

I'm also officially over being pregnant. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'm going to forget all about this in about 9 months or so and decide it's time to start again (once I see how ridiculously fantastic our child is). But right now? Yeah, I'm done. Let me tell ya what fun I'm having being uber-pregnant.

- About 3 things fit me that aren't sweats or tshirts.
- Pregnancy insomnia is the devil. And the severe lack of sleep has caught up to me today (hence the crankiness.)
- I've been congested for 2 weeks, which no amount of Claritin D seems to be able to fix.
- I get the most awful pitying looks from people now, especially when my answer to their nosy "when are you due?" is "Wednesday."
- This just in: 1st trimester morning sickness has returned. Serious nausea the last 2 days.
- I'm taking tissues to the doctor with me tomorrow because I already know I will burst into tears the minute she tells me I'm still not progressing.
- Unless you are the OB and you've just done a medical exam on me that indicates it might actually be true, hearing "It could be any day now!" only pisses me off. I'm starting to resent the optimism more than the pity.

Ah, pregnancy. As a whole, you've been a peach. This week, you're the pits. (That was such a horrible pun, I apologize. Actually, I don't, because I'm just too cranky to care.)