Sunday musings of a tired, pregnant mumma.

I refuse to sugarcoat pregnancy. It’s been the most incredible thing I have hands down ever experienced, but my god it has certainly been that hardest. At 31 weeks, I’m fully aware that I’m heading into the final 2 months where my body will probably double in size (my belly at least!), and as the weather gets hotter, so will my ankles. Comparatively, my patience will probably halve..

When I was tossing and turning last night, and had officially moved to two trips to the toilet to pee instead of the normal nightly one, these are just some of the thoughts that popped into my head.

  • Normally – “I love feeling my baby kick, it’s so nice and of course means its happy and healthy!”

2am this morning – If this baby somersaults one more time, or karate kicks my ribs, I might seriously just start sobbing.

  • Normally – “I love sleeping on my back, its the only way I can comfortably sleep”

3am this morning – The baby is crushing my lungs. And my other vital organs. I’m so sick of having to sleep on my side. And now Chris is breathing on me. Stop breathing on me.

  • Normally – “Oh good, I need to pee again! Now I’ll have to get out of bed in the cold, walk to the very back of the house where the toilet is so conveniently located, stick my foot in the laundry door first and wiggle it around to deter the cats from running out and thus creating a circus, and then try and get back to sleep for the second time tonight.”

6am this morning – Never. I never said that. Insert sleeping emoji.

sleeping emoji

NB: Tomorrow is a new day.

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