5'9"

that's not vodka...I swear it.

that's how tall I'd like to be for the remainder of this pregnancy.

I'm thinking an extra six inches of trunk space oughta suit the lil' booger just fine...and keep people from feeling the need to comment on just how small I am.

maybe if I was taller, he'd consider getting his toes outta my ribs. but I'm not. so he won't.

he's head down, back to the left, appendages to the right and nestled snuggly into my spleen.

hands and feet are busier than ever...'massaging' my innerds.

joyful.

last night he was contorted in such a fashion that I felt like if I rolled over I'd break his little leg.



not gonna lie...I considered rolling over just to test the theory. (wooooh, lawdy do I feel evil for typing that!!!! hahahah)

besides being completely squished (both of us)...all is proceeding well. my midwives think I'm a sissy (because I complain like its my job)...and I swear they were all but SUGGESTING a hospital birth with medication. holy, shit, sista. are you for real?

where my support is at?

so I've decided that I'm going to make it a point to relay to these two lovely ladies that being a cry-baby and a sissy are two entirely different beasts (with me, admittedly, being the former...while the jury is still out on the latter).

yeah, I whine. I'm bored, uncomfortable and (did I mention?) bored...I can't drink, eat sushi or even cookie dough (the horror!)...

so I bitch for sport - my newly found release valve (my old ones involved extreme sports and lots of core workouts). that doesn't mean I'm not tough, you dirty heffa!

so now they've pissed me off. good thing, too, cause now I feel a brand new (and improved) sense of determination to have this baby naturally...my way. maybe this woman is incredibly perceptive, sensed my looming apathy (have I maybe, perhaps...once or twice maybe mentioned how much I dislike being pregnant?) and knew that pissing me off was the most likely way to ensure my "participation" in the process.

participate this, d-bag. I'm gonna have the fastest, most comfortable labor you've ever seen...complaining not a once. and you'll be lucky to be called in to catch the baby and pick up my discarded slimy innerds...cause I don't like you that much, anymore.

and one other thing...if one of them tells me I'm "tiny" one more time...there gonna get a nice tiny fist to the throat. I'ma bruce lee the next person to comment on my small-i-tude. I feel gigantic...and the last thing I want to keep hearing is how small I am...or how big I'm GOING to get.

this baby is gonna be a giant (not that this pleases me...you know with the whole natural childbirth thing and all) and I'm plenty large, myself, thank you!!!

see? PLENTY big...perhaps a bit skeletal...but PLENTY big.