Holy moly is the first thing that comes to my mind.
The last weeks of pregnancy is a journey of self discovery that you can't fully share with anyone. You are trapped inside your brain. The one that you used to depend on. Now there's a team of people inside your head playing laser tag:
When will I be done being pregnant-I don't know-I can't last another day-Yes you can-I don't even know myself anymore-I'm huge-The baby has hiccups again-My skin is stretchy-Everything hurts-Why won't the other children let me be-My husband is no longer funny-Not at all-I can't wait to meet her tiny face-Will I make it to the hospital-What am I forgetting-Charge the video camera-Make a thousand lists-Be ready for the pain-Try to act sane-Pay attention when people talk to you-
I complain. And then I realize how incredibly lucky I am. And I try to let that sink in. Because I am. So. Lucky.
The anticipation is killing me (mentally and physically). And if I avoid mirrors I have a way better day.