Pickles and other treats.

July 4, 2011

So here I sit, or should I say plant since my weight is growing at an exponential rate. It seems crazy to me after all this waiting and wishing we are almost there, just less than 12 weeks to go now. I am freaking out. In a good way, but freaking out nonetheless.

Today I ate pickles, and I had some ice cream- ok, when I say “some” I mean 3 cones today. And even in the instance where I am inhaling these foods, I am embarrassed at the cliché and all they represent.

I am not that pregnant woman, demanding that her husband run out and relieve some obscure middle-of-the-night craving… or am I?

Through this entire three plus years of waiting, wishing and finally being pregnant, I always thought of my situation, my plight if you will, as unique. Not unique in the sense that I am the only one who has ever gone through this, but unique in the way I dealt. Now I find myself on this runaway train, as I affectionately call it, and I am dealing with it- like every other pregnant woman. I am no longer the conductor. I’m just here for the ride.

Fingers crossed I arrive in one piece.



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