...is how you might describe me lately.
Pregnancy has been pretty by-the-book for me. Everyone said once you hit the second trimester, your morning sickness will start to go away. Practically overnight, I went from hugging the porcelain to bounding around with heaps of energy (I won't mention how I'd need a nap every two hours, because halleluja the nausea was gone!).
Then they said around halfway through your pregnancy, you'll start to get much more emotional, if you haven't already. Like clockwork, man. The very day I hit 20 weeks, I had my first hormone-induced breakdown, and it's been a weep-fest over here ever since. I'll have a couple days in a row without any tears, but like a sprung leak, I'll make up for it over the next few days with over-sensitivity and crying at commercials on the radio.
I found my first couple stretch marks on my growing girls, and it sent me into a vortex of sadness over how difficult it's going to be to get back into shape and feel confident in my skin once this baby's out.
I cry at the drop of a hat any time Conrad is the slightest bit sarcastic to me (which is something I've always been able to just dish right back at him and brush off).
I get lonely much easier, which makes for higher emotions.
I slept in too late, and it left me with an all-day headache that resulted in not one, not two, but three cry-baby sessions.
On the other end of it, I'm more sensitive and touched by sweetness. When I saw the baby's kicks through my stomach the other day, I wept with joy that he's alive and thriving. When I listened to General Conference (a twice-yearly conference where our church leaders address everyone around the world), I wept with the spirit of their words.
Heaven help us when this baby has colic and refuses to sleep, and I'm sleep deprived and engorged.