I was just reminded, by someone else talking about summer vacations, that I was supposed to go on an awesome vacation this summer. Basically for as long as I can remember I have wanted to go to Italy. Maybe not when I was 5, but at least since my teen years. So 3 or 4 years ago I asked Steve if he would take me to Italy for my 30th birthday, which is this summer. He said yes. Now, however, I am doing this:
Honestly, I am loosing track, I think I am 37 weeks in this picture, but I don't know. Let's just say that I am. Pretty sure I am. This is what I am doing instead of going to Italy this summer.
We actually talked about this whole Italy thing when we decided to try and have another baby, Steve said let's wait to have a baby and I said no. I didn't want to go to Italy pregnant, can't not drink wine and be uncomfortable on the best vacation ever - and that would have meant waiting until this summer to get pregnant. I also didn't want our last baby to be so far apart in age from the girls. So we decided to have a baby and NOT go to Italy for my 30th birthday.
Right now, when it was 102 miserable degrees yesterday, when I am having a hard time walking because of my lower back, when I am not sleeping at night, and when I feel HUGE...I'm kind of still wishing I was going to Italy this summer.
Still totally excited about this man-child, but seriously, the last couple weeks of pregnancy are not what I would call fun. And it's the last couple of weeks. Two weeks from tomorrow to be exact. People keep asking me how I am feeling and I am feeling like a 38 weeks pregnant woman. And it's not a great feeling.
That's all. :)