Rafael and I had a really lovely Christmas at our house. Everyone had come over and had loved the way he decorated around the house. I just barked out orders because I cannot do much.
I'm officially nine months pregnant. I am due any day in January now. I'm ready to have this baby. I need to have this baby because I'm the most uncomfortable person in the world. I am also the most unbearable person too.
Rafael would tell anyone to run away from me because I'm just such a dick to everyone all the time now. It's because I'm sick of being in bed rest, and I'm ready to move on from being pregnant. He is lucky that he goes to work, because he doesn't have to deal with me.
I'm currently in the bath, after a really nice walk. I do feel more comfortable after the walks, and a bath. Rafael should be home soon, hopefully with food. I have my hospital bag ready.
I'm ready to have this kid. I'm hoping to have the baby naturally, but I feel like he'll be difficult and want to cut open my stomach, like a dick. God now I'm hating on my child and he hasn't even been born yet.
I also think I have only worn sweats since Christmas. Rafael doesn't seem to mind, and I'm not going to change unless I need to go somewhere important. I have gone into work a few times, because I wanted to talk with my boss about everything.
Also the ladies at work threw me a surprise baby shower, which made me cry. I think I cried about it for three days. I just thought it was so sweet. I still tear up over it to be very honest.
I got out of the tub and got dressed. I made my way downstairs to eat something. I constantly eat, all the goddamn time. I also pee more than the average pregnant woman. Like I'm convinced I don't even absorb the water that I drink, it just goes right through me and I go to the bathroom.
I know I am complaining a lot but I feel like everyone does that the end of their pregnancy.
I picked up my computer and started working. Working and writing has honestly been the only thing that has kept me sane. If not I would probably have had another mental break down.
Also after Thanksgiving Rafael has been a lot more open than he usual is. It's nice. I'm happy he trusts me more than he used to. I'm happy that he got something off his chest that he needed to. He also is going to therapy a lot more and seems to be better.
I don't think he took it as seriously before, but now he does.
I got up and started to make something for dinner. I don't know when he's going to be home, but I hope we can eat together. God and I keep getting these Braxton Hicks contractions, and I just want to cry, some hurt so bad.
I finished up dinner when I heard the door open. I smiled to myself hoping it was Rafael.
"Hello? Is my beautiful pregnant wife here?" He called out.
"Hi honey. How was your day?" I asked smiling. He came up to me to kiss me.
"It was long. I was at work at five, now I'm home at seven at night. I would honestly like to eat, and take a nap. So let's sit down and eat?"
"I would love to. I actually just finished up dinner." I grabbed plates.
"How are you feeling today?" He served himself.
"Pretty fucking shitty. My back is killing me, my feet are so swollen I wore fucking slippers on my walk, and the Braxton Hicks contractions are taking everything out of me." I sighed.
