"Should I just roll you?"

This was Tom's offer when we were getting ready to leave the house today. And though it probably isn't in his best interest to joke at the expense of a hormonal pregnant woman, I don't disagree with the sentiment. I'm getting to the stage where I'm so big and round, rolling me to our destination seems reasonable. (I'll post a picture soon)

I'm still hanging in there, but more and more often I'll whine, "I don't want to be pregnant anymore". I miss sleeping on my stomach, seeing my feet, drinking a beer...well, the list could go on and on. Currently the baby is kicking me in the ribs so hard, I'm convinced I'm going to end up with a hairline fracture. I know it will all be worth it in the end, and as soon as I see my son's face, I'll forget all about these uncomfortable last weeks. If women didn't have baby-love-induced amnesia, every child would be an only child.