I've been pregnant for 32 weeks now, close to 33. I guess I had this idea in my head that it would last forever. Makes sense, since 9 months is a really long time. It's just like anything. When it is happening to someone else you are blown away by how fast it went. Wow, they're already coming home from their 2 year mission? They just left! Or, He's graduating from medical school? I swear he just started! When you are doing it though, you count every day. That's how this pregnancy was, but in the past couple weeks it's starting to change. There's no way I can deliver a baby in 8 weeks. There's no way I'll be a mom in 8 weeks. This getting fat and being uncomfortable thing just keeps going on and on, right? Call me crazy, but all of a sudden this pregnancy is starting to feel really short.

The thing is, it might be shorter than I thought because I went to the doctor on Monday after 2 months of not seeing him because we were in Utah. They did a 3D ultrasound which I was really excited about, but the baby's face was smashed against the placenta most of the time, and even when we did get a clear shot of her face it was sort of alienish and scary. Probably could have done without those images, even though she is a really cute alien. Then they did a growth check. It turns out her head is measuring 3 weeks ahead of schedule, but the rest of her body is on track. Ha! Anyone who knows Kevin knows that this baby definitely has her father's head. My doc said they'll keep an eye on it, but he's hoping that I deliver a couple weeks early... for my sake. Yeah, me too.

I had a really  hard time leaving Utah. We we were there for almost 8 weeks, so we could be with Kevin's mom (who is still struggling with consciousness) and Kevin could take his boards. I guess I sort of forgot everything else about my life. I got used to a routine with my family, went to work in the actual office, and got to see my sisters every day. A lot of evenings we spent at the hospital with Cindy. The days before we left were hard for me. I'd have these random fits of tears, realizing that I had to go home soon. It's crazy because I actually love Arizona, and usually am ready to go back after a couple weeks in Utah but not this time. My mom (and therapist) asked if it was because I knew I had to have the baby when I got home. I almost laughed, except she was totally right. That time in Utah was this big barrier between me and having the baby and then it was gone and it was time to go home. Don't get me wrong, I want to have this baby. She was planned, and I actually love the little smudge a lot already. But that alone doesn't make it any less terrifying.

I think it has something to do with my pain tolerance, but even more so, my sleep. I mean, I can get an epidural and that will help minimize the pain, but the sleep I'm going to miss after she comes is what really scares me. I love to sleep. I sleep almost 9 hours every night, and sometimes fit in an afternoon nap. My husband gets roughly 5-6 and he's great all day - on his feet, alert, but not me. Whenever I complain or express anxiety about losing sleep he always says, "You're a champion! You can do hard things!" Sad that lost hours of sleep merits that kind of pep talk, but he's one of the few who understands how important it really is to me.

Also, I always thought that I would have this goddess-like pregnant body. Like one of the Victoria's Secret Angels who pose nude with their perfect belly and skinny legs and voluptuous breasts. But the truth is, I have the weirdest body ever. My belly isn't round - it's pointy, and huge.  No literally, it comes to a point. I've only gained about 12 pounds this pregnancy, but you wouldn't believe that if you saw my belly.  A few people have told me how cute it is, but then later I hear about them remarking that it is cone-shaped to their friends. I'm not "tiny" even though that's what people tell me, which is hilarious since I've literally never been fatter in my life. After being pregnant, I've vowed never to comment on anyone's pregnant body because you have zero control. This belly does what it wants, despite me trying to eat healthy and work out every day with Tracy. And even though it is sort of misshapen, I secretly love it. It's nice to be fat for a good cause.

I think the hardest thing to reconcile is the image I had in my head of what this pregnancy would be like, and what it's actually been. I imagined bringing the baby back to a perfect home with a gorgeous nursery and a sexy husband who did all of the hard stuff. I thought that I would be in a position to stay home with my baby all day and cuddle her nonstop and then spend her nap-time online shopping. Instead though, we live in a one-bedroom apartment and our landlord won't let us out of our lease early for my "condition" as she calls it, so we can't move until after the baby comes which means there's not only no gorgeous nursery - there's no nursery at all. We're pretty strapped, (read: broke) so not only do we not have most of the necessities like a carseat and crib and stroller, we definitely don't have extra for me to shop online during her nap. I'm not in a position to quit my job and I feel a little guilty because I actually like my job and I'm not sure I want to leave. The one thing I do have though, is the sexy husband who wishes he could do all of the hard stuff but will probably only be around in the evenings to give her a bath and me a kiss before flopping into bed himself because he's been at the hospital for 12 hours. I'm not trying to complain - it's the life I chose and have created. But I think there's something to be said for managing our expectations, and realizing you can be happy even when you don't have a lot.

This post has gone on long enough, but I wanted to write all of this down so someday when baby girl surfs the internet and comes across it she will know that life is messy and hard and sometimes heartbreaking. She will probably never really know her Grandma Cindy, at least not the way she was before her accident. She will probably never really know the sacrifices her parents made to make her happy and to give her a secure life. She'll probably never see her mom in a bikini (a real tragedy).  But I hope she always knows how loved and wanted she is and always has been. We pray for her and cry over her and talk to her all day long. Last night Kev said, "We're about to meet one of our life-long best friends. It's like Christmas morning."

And when you put it that way, how can there be anything but joy?