The Scale Says How Much?

I'm approaching my 32nd week of pregnancy, which means I've just about had it. I am completely, 250 percent fed up with being knocked up.

Not only is the anticipation of meeting our son killing me, but the baggage that comes along with pregnancy has got me at my wits' end. What can I say? I'm over it. And sadly I've still got two more months of this torture.

Don't get me wrong. I love knowing that there is life growing inside me; carrying a child is the greatest thing I have ever done in my life. The truth is, I'm just exhausted with all of it and ready to be un-pregnant again. I miss my designer jeans for God's sake. And is it so wrong that I want to indulge in my regular evening drinking again, too?

Last week at one of my checkups, the nurse informed me that I gained eight pounds in the last four weeks, which means the scale has tipped to a personal all-time high. I am still within the 25-to-35-pound recommended weight-gain range, but I still have eight weeks remaining. At this rate, I'm going to give birth weighing far more than I did with my first pregnancy.

And did I mention my belly is growing exponentially, too? Perhaps I have all of my go-to recipes to thank, which mainly come from websites like Pioneer Woman, Annie's Eats, Food Network and All Recipes. (You can find all my favorite, must-have recipes by clicking here.) That's right, I am completely to blame for the weight gain. I have been eating as if I were Renee Zellweger, preparing for her next Bridget Jones role: trying whole-heartedly to put on pounds as if my life (or career) depended on it.

Weight gain aside, I'm feeling like garbage, too. Yep. Sadly, a lot of symptoms that I suffered during the first trimester have reared their ugly heads; I'm once again feeling overwhelmed with fatigue, nausea and even sickness.

Thanks to the growing basketball-of-a-belly on the front of my body, it has become increasingly difficult to get around. I can't sit up without my legs spread-eagle. Nor can I bend over without sticking my butt out, squatting like a sumo wrestler.

And don't even get me started on what I have to go through to get adequate sleep at night. I'm sure the four-times-per-night bathroom breaks don't help matters. Neither does the fact that I have reached the point in my pregnancy where I have to sleep on my left side all friggin' night. I'm also now dealing with unbearable heartburn that keeps me up. It's so bad that it's making it nearly impossible to eat supper, and more importantly, to keep it down. I know, I know—it's as fun to read about as it is to experience. My prenatal vitamins are probably partly to blame. They contain DHA, which has fish oil. They give me awful fish burps. And let me tell you, fish burps and me do NOT mix. The combo sends me straight for the bathroom. Every single morning. Hey, look on the bright side: all that barfing may keep the scale in check.

What else can I whine to you about? Let's see. Well, every one of my shirts is ruined thanks to the endless amount of food droppings that have now stained all the tummy sections. Do I have a hole in my bottom lip?

And the absolute best part? The inability to hold my bladder when I sneeze. Yep. I said it. Every sneeze sends me running for a trip to the bathroom—and a change of clothes. Maybe I need to steal one of Ava's Pull-Ups to get me through the day.

I know. Call the Waaaaa-ambulance! The poor baby, Kristi, is whining nonstop! Truth is, all miserable symptoms aside, things are going great. I'm healthy, the baby has shown no issues, and my family is overjoyed with the addition that is about to join us. I guess I just wish time would speed up a bit. We are so excited to meet him.

Good things come to those who wait, right? Maybe that is why at the end of the grueling 40 weeks, we get to bring home our bouncing bundle of joy! What a prize for all this hard work of baby-baking. I suppose I'll take it! ;-)