You've been warned...
40 weeks! (40-weeks-ish. Being as, well, yeah.) Here, let me summarize: MISERABLE.
Still with the contractions - now painful enough to wake me from a sound sleep! With unpleasant flashbacks to end-of-Tatoe pregnancy, when I had painful contractions every 15 minutes for a WEEK. (And then there was an epidural and pitocin, and the angels sang, and the child was born three hours later, six days late. That one I was sure of the dates on.)
I don't think anyone, no matter how desired, difficult, or perilous their pregnancy, has to be grateful for being in constant pain. I certainly don't think anyone must be grateful for nine months of constant pain, and everyone at the end of pregnancy is pretty miserable and longing for it to be over (with healthy baby and mama) as soon as damn possible. So, I am not grateful. I am PISSED. And fucking exhausted. And my sweet children, with whom I would normally do fun things, are still off school and I am no fun at all.
I try to repeat to myself "Be here in the moment." But my subconscious can't help adding a running commentary about how it would rather be in all kinds of other moments.
(Maybe I should try some echinacea.)