By Nicole Perkins
Boy, do I wish it was from liquor but instead it’s just from over exhaustion. You see not only am I pregnant with my third child, in my desperate need to not be too pregnant or carrying around a newborn in the summer months of Arizona, my other two were born in the winter. And who knew we would conceive immediately, so they have birthdays that sandwich Christmas.
As for this pregnancy, I guess I can safely say that I am in the third trimester – as for the weeks or even months, I’m too tired to do the math anymore. Plus, it’s my third baby and I really just don’t care. I’m huge, I can barely walk and I’m miserable – that’s all I need to know. I actually consulted the trusty old What to Expect… for reasons I’m sure you would thank me for keeping private, and discovered how much I’m glad I don’t remember, and quickly put it back down. Whatever is going on with me now is from doing too much this past month, and can only be remedied by rest and Preparation H.
So, needless to say, but I will anyway, the holidays were killer this year. On top of birthday parties, Christmas parties, keeping Santa gifts, birthday gifts and “From Mom and Dad” gifts separate, all while trying to block my stomach from any photos, I also got into my first ever major blowout with my brother. He’s always been my best friend, and he didn’t come home for Christmas. It was hard.
But I made it, barely. The holidays were gorgeous, my kids were darling and my husband and I are closer than ever. I think I’m still sane, but I know one thing for sure, I’m sober. Having a glass of wine amidst all the stress and celebrating would’ve been nice, but instead I just ate my ice cream that my husband makes for me every night and tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. How many more months do I have to go again?