Whale of a tale...

For those who have been pregnant, you know full well when you reach the "I am a beached whale" stage. This stage is defined by limited movement, limited movement and people running into you because of the limited movement. This stage could also be characterized by the sudden lack of clothes that cover the belly. I have 2, maybe 3, shirts that actually fit right now. It was suggested to me that "maybe I could just buy more clothes that fit." Hopefully several of these pounds will diminish after the first weeks after I have this baby and something will fit again.

38 WEEKS on Sunday (3 hours away)! Two weeks away from my due date. I keep reminding myself (or at least trying) that by my birthday (Dec 8) I won't be pregnant any more. Whew!

I do reach a point with every pregnancy where the postpartum depression hits with a blitzkrieg. That's been the major battle of the last few days. Thank heaven this time it hasn't come as too big of a surprise. It almost always happens the last month of pregnancy for me, and it'll be a continual challenge until I stop breastfeeding -- CRAZY, STUPID HORMONES! It definitely makes me think twice about breastfeeding at all.
I talked to Dr. Sanders about the blitzkrieg battle with the depression. He prescribed me an antihistamine used for anxiety and extreme rashes. I found it to be fascinating. Maybe anxiety is just an extreme rash?? The medication does completely knock me out. I fell asleep driving yesterday when I went to pick Ryan up from work. It scared me. I've never done that before. Needless to say, Ryan was driving home.

I'm grateful to have another baby. I am also grateful this is my last. Thank heaven I live during a time of modern medication, technology and knowledge.

Ryan will be leaving for Salt Lake at 4 pm on Sunday for his interview at the Church office building on Monday. Oh, the irony if this baby is born during those 36 hours while he's gone.