He’s seriously taking over my body. My mind. My heart. My hips…
I feel like all I ever talk about is my baby, my pregnancy, my baby body. It must be maddening for my friends and family. Half of them have gone though the same thing and aren’t too interested–it’s old news. The other half hasn’t experienced it and isn’t very interested either.
My husband is a champ though: He listens dutifully, and remarks with genuine surprise. He interrupts conversations to say things about the baby. And he patiently waits for the baby to kick him as I press his hand against my growing belly.
He doesn’t complain as I try to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Not a word is muttered as I grunt my way out of bed to use the bathroom for the bazillionth time. And when I ask for back-rubs–he accommodates me!
So, maybe I’m not alone as self-entertaining proclaimer of the wonders of life. I have an audience of one. And lucky for me: he’s as excited as I am. That’s the way it should be, huh?