me.

If you're anything like me, you've felt the curse of the pregnant hormones and the negativism they bring. Some people feel their best when they're pregnant. I, I feel grateful. However It's a gratitude I have to remind myself of. The majority of the time I simply feel fat, zitty, pale and lazy. In an effort to feel like the "normal" realistic me, here's a letter to me:

Dear self,

I love you. I'm lucky I love you. Not everyone loves their self. I do. Sometimes I just forget, and if a sweet angel baby is what these hormones bring the price is well worth it.

I love your healthy moving body. I love your beating heart, your soul and your spirit. I love your fingers and toes and your working mind, and that you've been blessed with a baby growing inside.

I love that you've done hard things and the satisfaction that brings.

I love that you chose to marry a man who makes you laugh every single day and knows you almost better than you know yourself. I don't love that sometimes when your frustrated, you take it out on him. Why don't you take it out on the store clerk, or your pillow? Why on earth would you take it out on the sweetest man who works so hard for you? You're working on it. Thank you for that.

I love that your laid back. I hate that you're disorganized.

I love that your eyes are blue. I don't like that they're too close together, and that a boy you really liked once told you that. Oh well.

You could be better at saving money. You could be worse.

You have a strong and deep testimony of a Heavenly Father who knows and loves you. I love that. You should more diligently study the Book of Mormon. You're working on that too.

I hate that almost every day you over eat. To the point of kind of feeling sick. Why do you do that? boredom I think. And food is just so good.

I love that your a mom to the nuttiest boy around and that overall you're pretty good at the mommy thing. But you aren't quite sure how to handle the toddler tantrums.

I like that you fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow.

I've grown to accept your curly hair, and your lack of mathematical ability.

I like your style.

I don't like that you expect too much out of people. You have got to stop doing that. Appreciate who they are and what they do.

I love you.

And I promise I'll love you even more in a few months.