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Just call me Shamu... but don't really.

I don't (think I) complain very often, but I really feel like it, so I think I will. Consider that your warning.

I generally enjoy being pregnant. I have it really easy: never sick, only mild heartburn, still have a decent supply of energy to wake up early, go to work, and keep up with the ever-busy Boy. But I think I'm ready to be done with it. This is not because I'm miserable or sick or anything. I'm just... kinda over it for right now. And I'm sure it's just me being hormonal.

My 3-hour glucose test revealed that I have low blood sugar. Therefore, I have to test my sugar levels 4x a day. I'm on day 2, and I just don't want to do it any more. But lucky me, I get to test 4x a day for the rest of my pregnancy (<10 weeks), then 3x a week for 6 weeks, then get another 1-hr glucose test. Checking my sugar level doesn't hurt. But remembering to do it does.

Baby Girl finds the front of my body to be the most comfortable. This means, I have to go to the bathroom all the time. And sometimes (a lot of times), it's hard to catch my breath. It also somehow makes drinking my now-mandatory 64 oz. of water seem impossible.

I've resorted to wearing slip-on flats majority of the time, because tying my shoes right now feels like an Olympic sport.

And sitting? Don't get me started.

This time around, it's less fun to feel her move. (I feel bad for even writing that.) It's not because I don't find it just as amazing as I did when I was pregnant the first time. I love feeling the flutters, and I already know her sleeping schedule. It's just that she somehow manages to lodge her limbs down low by the outside of my hips and jab me. It's not very fun. And I have no idea how she's doing that.

I've nearly given up shaving my legs.

My ribs feel like they're breaking. And my sciatica is coming back. (I just started going back to the chiropractor after a couple months' hiatus from visits. He couldn't get my hips to align all the way. His response? "You're pregnant. Everything is supposed to be flexible. This is supposed to be easier!" Yeah, my body is hilarious.)

Toddler Boy has a hard time getting comfortable while I'm rocking him. I think I've figured out a position that works, but it's clear that he's just not digging it. And he's growing up too fast. And I hate that. (He called me "mom" today. Not mommy. Not mama. Mom. MOM!)

So there. Whine. Whine. Whine. But I know: suck it up, buttercup. Just under 10 weeks left. (I'm going to be a whale. A big, hairy whale with pincushion fingers who always sounds like she just ran a marathon.) End rant.

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