And, you guessed it.
I don't really freaking care.
Kuddos to the ones that can feel great, look great, exercise, speak kind words, give a crap about what they wear, breathe, eat without wanting to spew, walk around without fire inside of them, clean their houses, and smile during the last weeks of pregnancy. Clearly, I am not one of them.
I can't even say the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning without becoming winded with each sentence. And now that we say the Pledge to the Texas flag, I'm really screwed. Read a book to the kids? Ha! That's a good one...pointing out the craft of writing within high quality literature is far from my daily agenda.
Walking down the hallway is about to require a Hoveround. The question is, how far do I take this? How far do I push my 4'11" frame to keep working when I am crawling to the bathroom in the middle of the night?
I want to work as long as possible to have more time with her once she's here. So, I've got to stop whining.
Be grateful - although, trust me, I am with every breath of fire.
Three weeks left of work.
Suck it up.