put down the knife and go eat another cookie, preggers

Ugh. This has become the most boring blog. (Way to keep new visitors, Gab!) I feel like it's just an endles stream of pregnancy updates. I'm so sick of being pregnant. Eventually it hijacks your body and takes you on the most fucked up ride...get me off. I'm getting nauseous. No really, I've been getting nauseous again, in the ninth month of all times! See what I mean? Get me off.

Pregnancy has done some ugly things to me, and I have been pregnant for almost all of 2007, so I am really feeling like one tragic bitch rightaboutnow. The weather refuses to dip below 85 no matter how much I beg it to. Copious sweat and a general inability to move effectively have rendered me the most awkward, feisty, hazardous bitch. I will cut you. (When I am not busy bumping my poor baby into walls. The Clumsy hath taken over.) Everything makes me mad or makes me cry. I've had four crying jags in the last twelve hours. I cry because I'm scared. I'm also overwhelmed, nervous, and mourning the loss of my not-a-mom self. I've said it before, but I find pregnancy to be terribly alienating. I cry because nobody understaaaands meeee, waah. I cry when I don't want it to end because I'm afraid of the responsibility. Then I cry because I am just so fucking excited to meet my baby and it's an intensely moving thought. I know she's beautiful and amazing, and I want to adore her. Also, you can only clip so many tags before you want to fill the clothes with a baby, already! Ready. Not ready. Toss in a generous handful of pregnancy hormones and I am just a peach. The most wobbly, mealy, scarily fuzzy peach you ever did meet.

Wow, this is kind of like therapy.

This coming Tuesday at my doctor's appointment we'll find out if she's still breech; if she is, they are going to plan my c-section sometimes during my 39th week. This both relieves and horrifies me. On one hand, I get to shave a week off of pregnancy, and I will be able to tell everyone when she's coming and no one will be caught off guard. Everyone will be where they want to be and I can also ask certain people to come on certain days so there isn't a deluge. Such a control freak's dream. On the other hand, I will now be partially responsible for picking Sasha's birthday. This freaks me out, as I feel I am messing with fate. Such an astrological devotee's nightmare. So what I'm really hoping will happen, quite honestly, is that we pick a date and then I go into labor before that date comes. (Like on October 8. That would rock.)(What? I can throw some favorites out there!)

That's all for now. I'm going to go hang out with my husband because he's working sixteen hours tomorrow and I'm going to miss him. I think I'll do a little anniversary-related post soon, possibly with recently obtained video footage from our reception last year! (Thank you M&N, that was a fucking awesome surprise). If I can figure out how the hell to put it on a blog. Good night and good luck.