Confessions of a Serial Swooper

…how everyone else’s pregnancies take approximately 9 seconds while yours felt like it took somewhere around 9 years?

I swear, it’s a Bermuda Triangle-esque phenomenon.

Remember I posted (what seems like) last week about how I learned that my matron of honor was pregnant by reading about it on Facebook (which sucked).  Well, now she’s due practically tomorrow.

Being pregnant is weird overall, anyway.  It’s crazy how, like your physical body, your mental state is just so fully and obsessively focused on that growing baby.  I noticed other pregnant women all the time.  It seemed they were everywhere.  I was compulsive about reading and learning and planning and talking about my pregnancy.  I’m sure I was a huge pain in the a** to spend any time with.

About six months in (which was probably actually just six weeks but since I was pregnant for something like thirteen years, it seems longer), Husband was reaching the end of his rope with my insanity.  I was probably reading to him from some book, reciting the latest fruit or vegetable size of the baby.  “Oh, wow!  He’s a rutabaga now!  Did you hear me?  A rutabaga!  Isn’t that amaaaazing?  Husband?  Don’t you even care about the baby?!”

Husband:  (sigh)  Of course, I care.  But, seriously, Cutie.  I’m pretty sure we actually talked about something else, now and then, before you got pregnant.

Well, pffffft to you, mister.  (sticking out tongue sound effect)

Good luck to all my cute friends (and, considering I’m 39, there are a lot of you!) expecting new bambinos.  And, while I feel like your pregnancy lasted six point two seconds, I’m pretty sure you feel like you’ve been pregnant forever.

Hang in there.   And tell that husband of yours to pipe right down if he thinks you’re obsessing a little.   He’s getting a baby and nine months of designated driving out of the deal.    Not bad.