I feel like I never got to say goodbye to pregnancy. I was so ready to go to 41+ weeks, I never gave a thought to giving birth early. I didn't get to have any "this is my last time doing X while pregnant." I left work suddenly, I exercised and ate like normal. No final pre-baby date, dinner out, movie night. No final wearing of my favorite maternity clothes.
The night before D day. All upper arms and belly.
I know if I'd carried D another 2 (or 3 or 4...) weeks, I'd have gotten progressively more tired of pregnancy, but as it stands I am left with only really positive feelings. I loved being pregnant. I loved eating more. I loved the thought that what I was eating was helping my tiny baby grow into a less-tiny baby. I loved the responsibility of growing that little life and being the sole caretaker of my little man. I loved feeling his little movements and feeling like I knew him intimately, my constant companion, without ever seeing his face.
I did not love swollen ankles and heartburn. I did not love growing out of my shoes or feeling sluggish walking up the stairs. But would I do it all again? Absolutely. I know I had a textbook easy pregnancy and I am very fortunate, but I helped make it easy by taking good care of myself. It wasn't always easy to make (mostly) decent food choices and exercise most days, but I am so glad I did it.
I ALMOST wish I had those extra days or weeks of pregnancy to cherish those final hours when it was just me and D alone, but having him on the outside to snuggle with is just the best feeling. But next time, if I could make it all the way to 40 weeks, that would be ok too.