I'll be at least eight (though I'm betting nine-ish) pounds lighter and that much closer to wearing pants with a real waistband.
My toes will once again be in my line of sight.
I can eat SUGAR! Piles and piles of SUGAR!
I'll be reunited with my ankle bones, currently gone MIA under a layer of puffy cankle.
I'll have an excuse (and be encouraged!) to lay in bed for hours and hours and hours and not have one good reason to feel guilty for doing so.
People will bring me FOOD in my bed! Sure, just jello and grape juice until I pass the all-important post abdominal surgery tooting test, but it will still be quite fancy to have food brought to my bed. And food with SUGAR in it!
I'll be missing my dear Anderbug, but he'll be having way too much fun enjoying a spoilfest with his grandparents, his Auntie Megan, and his good fur-buddy Mulligan to even notice I'm gone.
I can nap for hours! You better believe this time around, I won't be questioning the very-sleepy-newborn tendency like I did last time ("Nurse, are you SURE he's okay? Why is he sleeping so much? Are you sure that's normal? Is he breathing? Are you SURE? Should I poke him and see if he cries? Are the OTHER babies sleeping, too?") I'm eating up every single second of those 16-18 hours of daily sleep time if we're so fortunate to again be gifted a very easy/sleepy newborn, and by 'eating up', I mean I'll be sleeping right along with her to catch up on the eleventy billion hours of sleep deficit I've accumulated in the past few months.
My uterus will no longer be lodged in my ribs. Praise JESUS.
I'll be able to lay down and not vomit acid.
And the one that takes my breath away: J and I will have a DAUGHTER. We'll be holding Miss Bumblebee and be an official family of four!! Now THAT is exciting to think about. Exciting enough to carry me through the discomfort, for sure. I'm so ready to meet our daughter, to see if (as I imagine) she looks just like her brother did 16.5 months ago, to experience once more that euphoric flood of newness and love and completion, to hold her and kiss her and introduce her to her awesome big brother. And spill the name beans already. This secret keeping is killing me.
Two special shout-outs:
Happy Birthday, MIL/Mimi! We love you and hope you're doing something extra-special today! Or at least enjoying a big huge piece of chocolate cake at the end of your busy day.
Sara, my saintly BNFF, thank you for lunch. That CFA delivery was just what the doctor ordered after a never-ending morning of messes and animal "issues" and things breaking. The Mister and I thank you for the CFA love. And seriously .... please come back for the cat you left here, or we'll wrap him up in a box with a bow for next week's birthday festivities.