This is the question I’ve started getting recently.
Family and friends, strangers and passersby, all seem to want to know:
“Are you ready to be done yet?”
Um… yes and no.
Quite frankly, I have very few complaints about being pregnant. I’m assuming people are asking the question because I am more visibly pregnant and obviously much closer to “done” (stick a fork in me!). But despite feeling rather huge, I’m not uncomfortable. The belly is still compact enough that it isn’t knocking things over when I turn. I feel pretty good.
Also, the standard issue ailments of the 3rd trimester don’t appear to be plaguing me the way they plague many. One bout of heartburn, a puke-free pregnancy thus far, and pretty awesome sleep (despite some vivid dreams)… I’ve had it pretty good.
I’ve gotten the hang of it. I feel like I’ve pretty well mastered the whole thing. I’m even starting to enjoy dressing up the bump.
What I have not mastered, what I have no idea about, and what could quite possibly be the death of me, is the whole “being a parent” thing. Newborns? Diapers? Breast-feeding? Not really ready for that.
So no, I’m not ready to be done.*
*Nobody ever is, so I guess I’m not any different than any of the millions of women who have done this before me.
I cannot wait to meet our new contribution to the human race, however. What is she going to look like? When will I get my first smile out of her? What is The Hubs even going to do with this tiny human?
It’s too much to even contemplate. I can’t wait. It’s going to be the best. Better than the first time he felt her move, which, at the time, was the Best. Thing. Ever.
I guess I am ready to be done.