My man...my tiny, precious, little man that depends on me for sustenance, protection, and love...is BOXING MY GUTS nine ways from Sunday! Last night was like nothing he and I have ever experienced during our time together. For about 12 hours straight (no exaggeration), he twisted and turned and stretched and kicked and punched and rumbled and karate-chopped his mama's insides! He wants OUT! He's done! And honestly, I'm done, too. My internals can't take much more of this beat down. Half a day of internal attacks is a long time. And believe me, I love my little ninja. But going from a steady stream of movement to a full-tilt boogie, roller-disco, demolition derby in my uterus is exhausting.
I didn't get any sleep last night due to the beat down so I'm struggling this morning. I love being pregnant. In fact, I was telling Todd how much I'll miss the bump when it's gone, to which he replied, "We'll make another one". But I'm ready for Spencer to come on out into the world. I can make it another 5 weeks...I'm tough enough...but it would be nice to just have him be here. I made him from scratch. I want him in my arms. And I want my ribs to remain intact! Pals have begun placing their bets as to when he'll arrive. The winner gets the bottom shelf liquor of their choice delivered by me, dressed as a saucy cartoon character.
And my maternity leave begins 1 month from today (or sooner if there's a jailbreak).
12 weeks of the Spence Monster and me. Not bad. Not bad at all.