Everyone on the pregnancy forums that I follow -- lurk without ever posting -- seems absolutely miserable right now. I see complaints of swelling, insomnia, trouble breathing, constipation, body aches and pains, excessive weight gain, cavities, and general unhappiness along with the intense desire to get-this-baby-out-now! Before getting pregnant I heard pregnancy wasn't a cute and fun thing. I heeded the stories of misery.

But, hey, I know I'm an annoying asshole, but it hasn't been at all that bad! I actually like it. I'm happy. For the first time ever I'm not self conscious about the way my stomach looks in tight clothing or after eating lunch. It's nice to just let this belly/uterus hang on out. The exhaustion I spoke of a few weeks ago at the beginning of the third trimester was temporary. I have no real complaints. My feet swell a little from time to time, especially if I wear heals to work, but that happens to me normally. I've started a nightly routine of icing my ankles and feet to keep the edema at bay. Meanwhile, Eugenio rubs my back without the expectation of reciprocity. Poor pregnant me. I'm not experiencing any aches or pains. I'm still able to run about 30 miles a week (much slower than normal, obviously), which may be a contributing factor to how great I feel. A friend let me borrow her pregnancy support belt, and I have yet to open it. I don't completely understand what it's for, since I don't feel like anything needs support; everything is just there, growing comfortably. I never experienced the round ligament pain I was warned about by all my friends with kids. I've had it easy.

I am reminded of important transitional periods in life. In kindergarten the teacher admonished us about how much harder first grade would be. We needed to buck up. Bullshit. We learned to read and got stickers on our work.  In fifth grade, the nutty counselor gave us a speech about the perils of middle school. We would have our shoes stolen, be stuffed in lockers, and occasionally beat up by giant 8th graders -- get ready. While some of that was true, it wasn't nearly as bad as we prepared for. I kept my shoes and was only subjected to the endearing pet name "The Stupid White Girl" in gym class.  In high school, they warned about how tough college would be, how much more competition would abound and how crippled we would feel. We were about to be brought to our knees and no mercy would be granted. Kids sat in early morning lectures still drunk. There were classes I hardly attended in which I still received As. I didn't study engineering.

So, what I'm saying is, I'm a perfect human being unaffected by the woes of others. Suckas.

But seriously, my pregnancy has been super pleasant. I'm annoyingly happy. At night Eugenio and I take turns placing our hands on my belly to feel our baby squirming around. Yesterday while watching Mad Men, we embraced spontaneously during a commercial break, as we sometimes do because we are in love and gross, and I told him, "One day we are just going to burst," because that's how happy it feels.

Every pregnancy is different. I'm glad to be a lucky one escaping misery. There were people who didn't believe Beyonce carried her own baby and they especially didn't believe her after hearing her talk about it in her HBO documentary special, whatever it was, I didn't watch. They say she spoke of it oddly -- a little too lovingly and wistfully, as if it were pleasant, which is NOT POSSIBLE, UGH. I'm here to say, leave us alone. Me and Bey, we're just blessed. Get over it.

But really, pregnancy isn't all that shitty for everyone. So, yay! I sincerely hope I'm not speaking too soon. And good riddance if I am, right? Only three weeks until the babe's full-term! Six weeks until her due date. I'm excited about the prospect of seeing our baby finally, but I'm not ready for pregnancy to be over just yet. People warn that this is the calm before the storm and that postpartum hormones are insane. Please be another over sell.