So lately I've been reminiscing about last year at this time and what it felt like to be unbearably uncomfortably 9 months pregnant. You know what I'm talking about. You can be in the most comfortable position you thougth possible and still feel absolutely horrible. No matter what you do that baby is going to find a way to shove it's foot/arm/head/butt somewhere you don't want it to be. And I don't know about you, but I had the worst heartburn. It was brutal. We put cinder blocks under the head of the bead so we could sleep at more of an angle, which definitely helped... that and about 5-8 tums each night.

Sidenote: I've been really wanting to have another baby lately. But as I'm sitting here reading what I'm writing, I'm having second thoughts. ;)

It's funny how the whole time I was pregnant all I could think about was that there was this amazing creature inside of me that looked a little like me and a little like my husband (turns out a LOT like my husband and nearly nothing like me). And then out of no where, this rush of panic came over me about a week before Spencer was born. HOW THE HELL IS THIS GOING TO COME OUT OF ME?!?!!