And I thought to myself, "Psssh. It can't possibly be that bad. They don't know what they're talking about."
As it turns out, they did know what they were talking about. It's terrible. Much more terrible than I imagined. While heat has always had a draining effect, there's something about being pregnant in the heat that has made me unable to function like a normal human being. The thought of walking from the house to the car when it's 100 degrees outside exhausts me so much that I need a nap. Let alone the thought of getting in the car and actually going anywhere.
My poor lungs are already running out of room, so deep breaths are hard to come by. When you add triple digit temperatures to shrunken lungs, you get a lot of wheezing and huffing and puffing. And generally feeling like you're going to shrivel up and die. I go outside and instantly slow down to about 1/100th of my normal pace (which, I can assure you, is not very quick to begin with these days).
Anyway, I'm not meaning to whine. I'm really just meaning to send a general warning out there to all potentially pregnant ladies (and current or future husbands of potentially pregnant ladies): Being very pregnant in the heat of summer is not fun. Everyone will tell you that, and you may be inclined not to believe them, but you should. Oh, you should.
We've had a couple of nice, cool rainy days that have me feeling refreshed, though, and I'm feeling like I'm going to survive until October. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. Assuming my belly doesn't get stuck in said tunnel along the way. 'Cuz it's definitely getting bigger.
In closing, I've got two small requests for my dear little baby.
First, little one, can you kindly keep your legs out from underneath my ribs? They're not jail cell bars. You can't bust out of them. I love you and your wiggly-ness, but I sort of need the ribs.
Second, and I know this may seem a little early, but I figure I should start this bargaining process sooner rather than later. Can you decide to come out on your own? Not soon. I mean, preferably not until October. But at some point, I would really like it if you'd let me go into labor. Your brother, bless his heart, had to be forced out with very painful drugs at 42 weeks. Can you just not do that? I'm willing to be generous. I'll (only slightly impatiently) give you until 41 weeks and 6 days (if I can keep the doctors off our backs), if you'll just agree to come out. Extra brownies and cupcakes if you come out before that, though. Or extra breastmilk? Is that what you'd bribe a newborn with?
Any guesses? Am I having a boy or a girl?