I’ve got two more weeks of being held captive by the little eight-pound warden residing in my swollen uterus. And now that I’m on bed rest, I’ve got nothing but time to reflect on the last nine months: the good, the bad, and the seriously deranged.
In recent months, I’ve learned to be grateful for the simple things in life such as the ability to bend at the waist. Will leaving whatever I just dropped on the floor hurt anyone? Do I really need to wear socks or shoes or, hell, pants for that matter? Bending over might kill me or squish Baby Boy or kill me! Holy crap that hurts. Continue reading