3 Weeks- But Who's Counting?

I'm now officially in my last month of this amazing, odd, ever changing pregnancy journey. At times this process moved at a snail's pace. Now, I feel like Flash Gordon. Well, the days feel like they're Flash Gordon-like. Me, I'm not moving anywhere fast unless it's to the bathroom, and then it's a slightly quicker waddle. Let's be real.

With Ziggy's arrival quickly approaching, we're heading out tonight to purchase all of the essentials that we don't have in our parental arsenal yet. I.e. the stroller-travel system, a new mattress, changing pad covers, champagne for this 9 month sober momma and cigars.

Do people still do cigars? My uncle requested one upon Ziggy's arrival, but we're not really cigar type of people. Maybe we'll do something a little more classy like Miller High Life 40 oz. and Swisher Sweets? That's a bit more our speed, and nothing says "welcome to the planet, baby N.", quite like a $0.97 cigarillo, am I right? Don't all rush to the hospital at once for your ghetto goodies, friends!

As the finish line of this almost year long marathon draws closer into sight, here are a few things that I will and will not miss:

• I will not miss the extra pounds that grace my face. At times it feels as though I've gained 50lbs in my face. My cheeks are so dang heavy that I swear I should be burning massive amounts of calories when I talk. If I am burning them, they ain't fallin' off my face, I can tell you that.
• I will not miss chubby jokes. I've gotten quite a few in jest, but a fat joke is a fat joke. Just because you follow it up with an "I'm just teasing" nudge does not negate the fact that just commented on my weight. Ain't nobody got time for that while carrying an entire human being inside of you.
• I will not miss my Flintstone feet. I'm down to 2 pair of shoes that fit. It's a sad state of affairs from about my lower calf on down my leg. This past weekend I slipped my flip flops on mid-way through my brother's wedding reception which resulted in him announcing to the party that he "found the missing cocktail wienies, everyone." Awesome. Not.
• I will not miss having to physically cross one of my legs over the other one with my hands. This is a new concept for me. I do not enjoy this concept.
• I will not miss being able to hear myself breathe. Ziggy was sitting so high for awhile that I was breathing like a 405 lb coal miner at times. Who wants to sit next to that in work meetings?!
• I will NOT miss Carpal Tunnel. I can not write anything by hand to save my life. And if I do, I will pay for it for hours. I no longer sleep through the night thanks to my hands repeatedly going painfully numb about 6 times a night. Last night I had to sleep sitting up with my hands dangling next to my sides because the numbness had spread up my forearms. Yeah, it's about as cozy as it sounds. I pray this goes away. Please, Lord.

• I WILL miss this journey of slowly becoming a mom over the last 9 months. Each day gives you the opportunity to grow closer to this person inside.
• I WILL miss feeling Ziggy move around. No one on the planet will ever feel him like I've been blessed to feel him and it makes me teary to even think about not feeling his kicks.
• I WILL miss the smiles from strangers and the general kindness that people offer you when you're an expectant mom. When else are people genuinely concerned with how you feel and genuinely excited for you in ways you've never felt?
• I WILL miss seeing my doctor and nurses as often as I do now. I love those people.
• I WILL miss the feeling of falling in love with someone I've never met. It's surreal and completely unconditional. I'm only in the initial parenthood stages, but it gives me a glimpse into how much my parents must love my brother and me. It's eye opening to know that your love can know no boundaries or borders.

All in all, I will miss many things and some things can hit the road, but I wouldn't trade this journey for anything. It's Ziggy's journey and it has only just begun. The Flintstone feet are just as much a part of his story as are his sweet kicks and hiccups. And some day when he's 13 and tells me I'm the meanest mom in the whole wide world, I'll be able to smile and tell him that it's just payback for making me sleep sitting up for the last 3 weeks of my pregnancy and for making me wear these hideous shoes with my dress pants on a daily basis. Now who's the mean one?!