"Good morning babe, how'd you sleep?" Alex asks gently.
"I slept on the couch most of the night. I feel like shit. And I hate you."
"Ohhh," he says sympathetically. "I'm so sorry you had another bad night. What can I do for you?"
"It's your fault I feel like death. It's not the baby. It's you."
"Is it my fault because I injected my poisonous juices into you it created a demonic growth that makes you feel sick and not be able to sleep?"
"Exactly. You impregnated me. And now I hate you. I hope you're happy."
I spoke too soon in the last blog, saying that I was feeling "great" and "glowy." What a crock. I feel like I might never enter REM again, like the muscles in my jaw and shoulders threaten to creep even closer to my ears, and that I'm losing a bit of my soul each time I have fever-inducing diarrhea.
And what's with these hiccups?!?
But at least my fingernails are awesome. Seriously. They've never been this long and strong before.
I found out about Jezebel's Tracy Moore way too late in my pregnancy. When I had these moments, laughing hysterically and finding out I wasn't alone definitely helped. http://jezebel.com/mother-load/
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