Over it

Pregnancy, that is.
I think there must be a point that every woman reaches where the end is in sight, but just out of reach, and she is feeling like crap, that she just wants it all to be done with.
For me, that time is now.
Just get on with it. I am ready to hug on my baby and clean up after him and be tired all the time. I will trade the nausea and hot flashes and cankles and heartburn. I am already exhausted, but being exhausted while having my body and mental state back would be ok.
Bring on the diapers and bottles and laundry and all that stuff. Give me my snugly little man.
I am truly not cut out to make babies.
"I love being pregnant" people are idiots with bad memory. They only remember the attention or whatever else they selectively want to remember. They certainly are not remembering my current state.
I feel like an emotional, forgetful manatee that just ate a gallon of jalapenos and grew fat little legs. Wait, maybe not. I don't think manatees can sweat. Anyway, if they could, I would feel like a beached one lying on 120 degree sand and sweating.
Awww, the baby is kicking me. He said "it sucks in here...let me out".
I won't go into the details of losing a pair of shorts that I had in my hand, wearing only one giant hoop earring to see a client who probably now thinks I am a pirate, or crying at random in the bagel shop and Golden Corral. Suffice to say I am done. If the baby shows up tomorrow, so long as he is healthy, that would be just fine.
Right now he is working my kidneys and lower back, so I probably need to go lay on my side and hug a pillow for awhile, as I count to myself how long I have left until I meet the little buddy that is in there pounding around and then accuse Mr. W of turning the AC off when he didn't.