At seven months of pregnancy, people are starting to ask if I'm excited and ready for the baby to arrive. The truth is, not really.
The assumption is that I'm panicky and anxious. Though I have my moments, that's not it.
Let's start with the physical. As much as gaining a whole pile of weight is not my favourite, my belly is pretty awesome. I know that it's quite inappropriate to be self congratulatory, but I think it's better than feeling poorly and calling myself fat. My belly is smooth and round. It's also pretty big. It looks just like what it is supposed to look like. I have had some back pain here and there but nothing chronic. My downfall is my digestive system. If I'm not nauseous, I have heartburn. Oh well. Amongst all the possible, scary problems, this is minor.
Now, this whole process is going to give us a baby. Yay! So why am I not excited? Because I have my baby. It's on the inside, nice and safe, with me all the time. So, I'm not anxious, I'm just selfish. I get to feel it kick and turn. It reacts to my emotions and is generally quite polite. I can take it just about anywhere and sometimes I get better parking. Of course I share with the baby daddy. He has seen my belly jump and while I'm sleeping, he feels the baby kick and dance. That's another positive point; generally, I have no trouble sleeping.
I will be very happy to see the baby, in January. For now, I will enjoy the last few weeks of work, freedom and somewhat selfish lifestyle that I've been living for quite awhile. The baby can just keep growing and I will prepare.