“I hate being pregnant.” I said out loud as I was panting and gasping for air after coming up the stairs from the basement. We have been doing a lot of spring cleaning around here and rearranging furniture to best fit our lives now. I don’t even know why we bother to when our lives will completely change again in a few months when baby #4 arrives. As a sharp pain hits my back while bending down to pick stuff off the floor, I circled back to the thought- I hate being pregnant. I hate the weight gain. I hate that I can’t do anything with a haste anymore. I hate that I can’t lift heavy things. I hate that I have no energy. I hate this part of pregnancy. And once I’m in labor, I’ll hate that part too. And I’ll hate postpartum even more. “I hate being pregnant.” I said out loud again while cleaning up my desk. And as I turned around, I met my husband’s eyes as he looked on in concern. I grabbed our crying and tired baby from his arms so I could put her to sleep. Cleaning will have to be done tomorrow. Before I turned to walk away, my husband put his hand gently on my belly and my heart was at ease again. We look past the pains to the promises.