Waking up is hard to do

I feel like the opposite of an old person – they wake up and are thrilled to just be alive.  I wake up and go “shit – I slept soundly – that’s another night with no labor.  Damn it.”

So this morning, upon being disappointed at having yet another night of restful sleep, I decided to treat myself to breakfast.  I had a wonderful little indie rock morning… I rolled out of bed around 10, pulled on the same pair of maternity jeans I’ve been wearing all week, and went to the dinner across the street to enjoy a hot chocolate, eggs over medium, hash browns, a biscuit, grapefruit juice and a pancake on the side, all while reading the Washington Post and listening to the Deathcab for Cutie album the waitress had on for background music.  It was lovely, and I tried to appreciate the fact that it was the exact sort of morning I will no longer have once the small one arrives. 

Would I have rather been in labor?  Yes.  But it was still a lovely morning, and one I suspect I will look back on fondly when in the throes of 2 AM breastfeeding and diaper changing.

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