Yep. I reached this point thirty years earlier than expected. Way to be an overachiever.
I dont think the antibiotics are working well at all.
I am still terribly sick.
My ear is still clogged, I can breath through my nose for only about 5 minutes a day, my throat is scratchier than my blue winter sweater, and I spend my afternoons marathon coughing.
However, now when I cough, I also pee.
Yesterday I changed my pants 7 times.
With adult diapers less than a month away, frankly, I am somewhat sensitive about my human dignity. And I stubbornly refused to buckle to the reality that coughing my guts out with a nearly full-term baby smooshing my bladder is a bad recipe.
Finally, David talked me into taking precautions because I had no garments or PJs left and doing laundry is his chore.
Of course, the pregnancy magazine I picked up at the OBGYN yesterday addresses none of these things. Instead “Molly Sims talks cravings, parenting, and baby gear.” and the QA section delves into “How do we negotiate a name?”. Cut-throat journalism. The cover features a pregnancy unicorn whose belly I suspect is fake and whose dress I could not pull off even at 18.
In the words of a wise woman, “I can’t sleep, breath, or walk. Where am I supposed to find the energy to glow?”
I showered and had bfast. An excellent day’s progress. Time to go back to bed.