It's 4am and I can't sleep. GB's heart is still beating...I checked because I figured the reason I couldn't sleep was because something was wrong (naturally).
So now I've been sitting here for a half hour, surfing the net, telling myself, "HE'S JUST SLEEPING! STOP FREAKING OUT!" It's not working.
So what's a girl to do? Why, blog, of course.
This is a switch. My pre-appointment freakout was relatively mild last night...I've apparently shifted to post-appointment freakouts now. How perfectly poetic. (Do you sense the sarcasm there?)
And I'm hungry.
Great. Just great. So I can freak out...screw with my gestational diabetes...and get fat...all at the same time.
This is the stuff that reality shows are made of....thrilling human drama (and too many ellipses...and yes, I had to look up ellipses to make sure it was the right word. What do you want? It's 4:30am, for God's sake!)
GB just gave me a big ole kick as if to say, "Hey nutcase...get your fat ass back in bed and let me sleep." Already this kid has opinions...