An Open Letter to Pregnancy

Dear Pregnancy,

We need to talk. 

I'm breaking up with you. That's right. It's over.

Please pack up your stuff and exit my life at your earliest convenience. Preferably today.

It's not you, it's me. I swear.

Okay, it's not me either.

It's what you do to me.

The heartburn. The heaviness. The emotions. The difficulty in not losing my temper over minuscule things. The back pain. The having to pee a million times in a day. The not being able to lay on my belly. The struggling to put on shoes or socks. The pain of a baby on top of my pubic bone. The feeling of my hips as they widen to allow for birth. The slow, slow, slow walking. The pain of carrying this heavy belly everywhere. The inability to walk up a set of stairs without having to rest. The anticipation of wondering when labour will walk through the door. The longing to meet this baby girl.

You really, really aren't good for my mental health. 

It's too much.

I'm done.

We've had a good run. Five times over. Three beautiful babies now grace my life as we wait for the fourth. I've endured your quirks and flaws five times over. I've relished in the fantastic moments of the miracle that you bring and mourned at those moments that broke my heart. I'm grateful to have had you in my life each time, even the one time it didn't work out for us. I know not everyone gets to experience you.

But now I'm done.

Done.

Just done.

We've grown apart.

I want to meet someone else and you just don't fit into that.

So, please pack up your stuff. I'm sure there's someone else out there who would love to welcome you to their life. Go find them. Envelope them in your arms. Show them the miracle that you are (maybe keep your flaws to yourself though, okay?). 

Whatever you do, wherever you go, get out of here. Sooner rather than later. You've overstayed your welcome. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. And don't you dare come knocking at my door again. The door will be locked and deadbolted and locked again. You won't be welcome.

Love me



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