A while back I referred being pregnant like having PMS, just worse.
And I still firmly stand by that statement, especially the hormonal part that leaves you wondering if you'll ever be sane again.
Case in point: Last night I was needy... emotionally, physically, everything. I just needed something from my hubby and proceeded to pout when I didn't get what I wanted.
Of course, him being the sane part of this relationship asked me what I needed.
I told him I didn't know.
He said he couldn't help me if I couldn't help him.
And I wanted to cry.
Not because of him, but because of me and my inability to communicate what I needed or even get my brain to function properly so I could figure out what I needed.
It just happens when you're pregnant. You need something, anything, anyone to make you feel better about your ballooning body, swollen feet, huge nose, bad acne, greasy hair and incurable hunger.
But you can never really, truly put your finger on what it is.
So bless that beautiful man of mine, he gave me a chocolate bar with almonds, a hug and told me to go put my feet up and keep my trap shut.
It worked (for now).
I'm so lucky.