Pregnancy is really tiring, but this time around I feel as though I’ve been more exhausted than before. It’s hard to get up in the morning, and even after a solid nights’ sleep, I still have to have a nap in the afternoon on the couch while poor Captain Jelly Belly watches Toy Story 2 for the hundredth time. On days when I eat a lot of chocolate, I can actually hit Party Animal status by staying up past 9 p.m.

So I had some blood tests done last week, and it turns out there’s a reason (other than the obvious basketball-sized lump in my tummy area) that I’m so tired — I have like, no iron in my body. Apparently a healthy iron reading is around 100, but most adult women are doing well if they hit 50. My reading was a totally awesome 12. 12! Let me just say, I am really, really safe from any future attempts by Magneto to use my body as a jailbreak tool.

To correct the imbalance I’m supposed to be taking iron supplements three times a day, but I can only work them in twice a day, due to the scary amount of other vitamins, minerals, and other chemicals with really long names that I’m supposed to ingest every day. They all have their rules and regulations and meeting them all has become a full time job. It’s kind of like one of those logic puzzles with the grid…a set of hints like, “Jack lives in the red house; the green house is next to the blue house; the owner of the yellow house has a dog,” that sort of thing, only with drugs. Here’s my current list:

• Prenatal vitamin — must be taken with food to avoid an upset stomach
• Iron supplement — must be taken with food and a Vitamin C supplement, and not with a calcium supplement or any kind of milk product
• Calcium supplement — take with food, preferably milk, as the Vitamin D in the milk helps to absorb the calcium
• Metamucil — take twice a day to counteract the effects of the iron supplements, and not with any other kind of medication or supplement

So you can see, squeezing in all these pills is something of a challenge. Today I actually considered buying one of those little plastic pill containers that keeps track of what to take when, that older people use once they are up to taking like, 18 pills a day. Sheesh! Add in the Metamucil and the exhaustion, and my inability to lift, carry, or snuggle comfortably with the kids anymore, and I may as well be 80.

I think what I’m saying, in my cranky old lady way, is that despite the awesome pants and the pregnant-lady parking at the Superstore, I’m really, really ready to be not pregnant anymore.