Pregnant, over 40 and MISERABLE

Oh the miracle of pregnancy! The joy of being possessed by a parasitic being that gets its kicks from beating you up from the inside! You hear about the women who Glow. What about the ones that Throw? Every day for 37 sodding weeks?! Yes, I am 37 weeks pregnant with son #2, the wrong side of 40 and am downright miserable. When do I get the 'lit from within' skin? The burst of primal energy that signifies my blossoming into late motherhood with a flourish of serotonin and an overwhelming urge to nest? The desire to research tumble tots with the enthusiasm and vigour of a 'sorted' 28 year old with her peachy new offspring swaddled up in a £900 Bugaboo grinning all the way from one Dinny Hall earring to the other? Why is it that all I want to do is stop wearing sale bin-end dresses in a size I thought only fit for the morbidly obese and avoid pebble dashing the bathroom with vomit AGAIN because I've just paid my Croatian cleaner thirty five sodding quid to make it smell of summer meadows? And how the hell did this happen to me A SECOND TIME anyway when I am peri-menopausal, ON THE MINI PILL and only have sex three times a year on overcast Thursdays in May???? Am I a bizarre statistical freak of nature or does my terrified 50 year old partner have unlimited secret stores of  boy-making Kryptonite in his (soon to be tied) testes?