30 weeks pregnant.

That's like, really pregnant, y'all.

Like, nearing the end, my back hurts, my hips hurt, my crotch hurts, I don't sleep well, and I will bitchslap every rude person I meet kind of pregnant.

I'm excited. And nervous. And already a little sad that it's almost over. There's the very real possibility that this will be it as far as me and pregnancy. I know it will hurt, on the other side, to look back and remember what it was like to have a belly, to feel my baby(ies) kick me from the inside, and know that those experiences are in the past.

I guess it's kind of like the last day of the vacation of a lifetime. You know tomorrow will bring a return to normal, and the fantasy world you've been living in will soon just be that again--a fantasy. So you pack the last day full, you soak up the scenery and the activities and the culture and the language and the food and the feel of the foreign wind on your skin. You revel in it. You roll around in it, getting its scent all over you. You live and breathe it, refusing to let any of those last few minutes and hours be lost to thoughts of reality.

So hello, back pain! It's you again, hips! Why no, I didn't just ride a horse bare-back for four hours, but damn I love my crotch feeling like I did! Hello small, dark hours of the night; you would pass right by while I snoozed on if not for this frequent urge to pee. What a blessing to get to see you for the limited time we have! And crazy, crazy hormones that flash boil at the slightest social infractions of others, ah, you are such a wild ride. I'm going to throw my arms in the air and scream on the downhills and laugh maniacally on the curves and enjoy it all for what it's worth while I still have time.