So yesterday Rob and I hiked to the top of Mt. Royal (the mountain that stares at us from our balcony.) It was a heftier hike than I'd expected, but oh so good. First thing this morning we discussed inflating the air mattress on the balcony so that we could listen to the river at night while sleeping under the stars (with a bathroom!) Then, we rode our bikes to breakfast in shorts and a tanktop (me not Rob smartass.) This afternoon I went skiing in the slush ahh soo good! Then rode my bike to the bar for a beer. Its a rough life.d
So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much
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