It's getting to the point where I want to go into labor so that I can stop cooking dinner and supervising baths and SQUIRTING EYE DROPS INTO UNCOOPERATIVE EYES because yes yes of COURSE there is pink eye in the house. I mean how sad is that. I would welcome the opportunity to pass a regulation rugby ball, and all the attendant discomforts such as night sweats, giant sore boobs, and Gitmo-style sleep deprivation torture, just for a change of pace.
Not the really awful pain in my thoracic spine I got the first two times, though. That I fear.
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