Last night my brother unexpectedly had surgery. He'd had surgery a couple of weeks ago and thought all was well. However, his incision became extremely infected and he was taken in for surgery last night. During the surgery I was a little anxious so I called my friend Meghann to get my mind off it. She did the crossword puzzle over the phone with me. Then I hung up and called the hospital to find that he was out and recovering fine.
So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much
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