I'm sorry, but I lurch out of bed. I'm big as a cow, and I've got to skootch to get off of any article of furniture in the whole damned house. I don't care how fine my ass is. I don't care how beautiful I am, while he draws little spirals on my belly with his fingers, I simply want to sleep.

While my gut response is along the lines of "fuck off and die" when it comes to sex right now, I've been usually caught issuing snoring noises and drooling on my pillow. I'm obviously kinder about it when conscious, but occasionally, I've been tempted to look at him with incredulity and ask,"Are you kidding?"

And I feel bad. I love him madly. I would just rather do just about anything except have sex.

As a result, I've resorted to mercy screws. I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I don't care about my pleasure at the moment because if I want to double my pleasure, I'll chew some gum. And it's not that I hate sex. But right now sex is kind of like getting a pleasant massage: it's nice, it's relaxing and I'll sleep whether I have it or not. It's still making love, mind you, I love him wildy, but I could care less about the orgasm part.

It's weird to have my heart into it, and have my body leaving town.

Very weird.

Welcome to the third trimester, complete with screwy sugars, reduced libido and the ability to sleep anywhere any time through anything.

Well, things are slowly coming together I guess. On the sugar front, I am up to 48 units in the morning and 36 at night, but my night sugars are pretty damned close to being over the top, so I think I'm looking at 38 units tomorrow or the next day. When I have these surges, I'm toast. I'm not a pale brown on wonder bread type of toast either...more like black-charred-scrape-that-sucker-off-with-a-sharp-knife type 'o toast. And it's hard not to get stressed out about the changes, even though I realize rationally it's normal, par for the course and all that shit.

Look, I'm pregnant and this is my girl and I want everything to be okay. I know in my head she'll be fine, but the hormonal witch in me is going nuts. I think I need an exorcism. Ha!

I hate that the nurses worry so much about me worrying. Look, I'm type A. I'm born to worry. If you worry about me worrying, it'll just give me one more damned thing to worry about!

Speaking of worries, we're planning my baby shower now. I'm inviting 14 people (so far). We're having it at Karen's house even though Pauline said that two of the people might not come. I told her I wasn't here or there on those particular two...we're simply not that close. It's more important to me that it be comfortable and we have enough space for everyone to sit down. Karen's house can manage that..my livingroom cannot. Pauline said we could rearrange things. I don't want to have to re-rearrange things afterwards. It's too much for me.

Karen of course, asked me that I NOT request that she cook, but she offered me numerous pots and pans should I feel so inclined. I told her Pauline and I were probably just going to do crockpots and she could make a veggie/deli plate thing. She sounded relieved.

Pauline was kind of pissed about having it somewhere else, but that's because she hates having to depend on someone else to drive her places. And because communicating with Karen long-distance would suck for her. She was kind of irked at me, but I also know I kind of feel in some ways lately, like I haven't been able to count on her or rely on her and that sucks. I need to know it's all handled and she hasn't been doing that lately at all.