Zee baby

Well, I broke down and got two more pairs of maternity pants, and wore one to work today.

I know this isn't a big deal to anyone who's not had a drastic change in body shape, but I was nervous and worried about how I'd look in them for an irrationally long time last night while I was trying unsuccessfully to sleep. I like the belly, but I don't like how the short-waisted Erin looks with the pants that come up so far in the back and the shirts that cut me at just the wrong point ... But that's not what you're here for, to hear about my expanding stomach.

In summary, I wore them. I felt comfortable. I need to deal with the fact I'll never look the same as I did. Whatever. I hear there's a reason for this -- apparently I get a baby at the end of all this. And they let me KEEP IT. So, moving on.

Back to this not-sleeping thing ... I keep reading in my bible of pregnancy (this one is the best, courtesy of my doctor) that sleeping doesn't get easier as you get bigger. But I can't get comfortable NOW. I can't stop thinking about work, the baby, Dave, in-laws, holidays, traveling, money, work, foods, memories that mean nothing, songs in my head, work ... And this is me, the Olympic medal-winning sleeper. I don't get it. I can't stop thinking. And I can hear myself breathing. UGH.

I blame it on not sleeping on my back, as that book also says like a harsh German dictator, that you MUST NOT DO, because we don't want to huurt zee baby!, and that's annoying only because I am still 3 when I want to sleep. Tell me I can't do something? That's the ONLY thing. I want. To do. And if I could, I'd throw myself down on the floor and stomp my feet about it. But, I don't want to hurt zee baby. Ah, well.