As of 3 days ago, I have officially carried my baby to term (babies are considered full-term at 37 weeks)—something most people take for granted... but I never, ever will. (Keep cooking, though, Arlo. Mama still has to wash your cute little clothes.)
Symptoms? You name it, I have it. My feet are so swollen that they actually hurt, I don't sleep anymore, I pee nonstop, my heartburn is out of control, and I'm just plain uncomfortable. I know this final stretch is going to be pretty rough—but so worth it.
Most notably, severe sciatica (apparently, sciatica is no joke!) sent us to L&D Wednesday night, which was a blast. It was an all-night affair, of course, so I ended up having to miss my own baby shower lunch that my co-workers had planned for yesterday. I felt like a giant jackass, as you can imagine. They had a quick little celebration for me this afternoon, though, with gift cards (yay!) and cake (which was meant to be eaten at yesterday's lunch but wasn't stale yet, thank God—so I didn't have to feel like an even bigger jackass).
It's a good thing the end is drawing near because I'm almost miserable, and I'm so, so ready to meet my miracle (as soon as I get that load of laundry done, I mean). The nursery is complete, we've bought (or were gifted) all the essentials, my bags are (pretty much) packed, and the car seat is installed in Danny's truck. This is actually happening!