07.07.08 :: 9:52 am

the other night i woke up in a pool of my own vomit!

so very rockstar!

unfortunately, it was not due to partying hardcore but your regular old run of the mill pregnancy-related acid reflux.

And the hits just keep on coming!

It was fucking scary, to say the least. I woke up gasping for air. I was convinced I'd cut off oxygen to the baby's brain.

Fortunately, I'm married to the Voice of Reason so after cleaning up and calming down, I felt a lot better.

Stoosh-dog has started having sympathy throw-ups. At least, that's what I'm telling myself it is.

So yeah, House of Sunday is now House of Pukey until Friday, when I'm deluding myself into thinking all these assy symptoms will disappear immediately.

Tomorrow, my last doctor's appointment before the surgery.
I think we're just basically going to talk about everything that's going to happen, specifically, how I will be bisected like the Black Dahlia and a living human will be wrenched from my guts and shown to me, screaming and covered in slime.

Ah, the beauty of birth.

No, actually, I'm pretty excited.
Last night Ry said "This is our last Sunday alone together for a long time,"
And it was a bittersweet moment.

On Friday, we're a team of 3.
And we get to hang out with, take care of, and love a be-diapered, drooly, 7 pound warm nugget.


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