this card allows you 5 minutes bitching time....

I would like to take this opportunity to complain......

I remember the last time I felt normal, and I remember it because it was also the first time I started to feel not normal. It was the last week in February. I loaded up the van, drove to Austin, picked up lunch for Audrey, Annabelle and I, helped out with the twins, got groceries, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, went for a walk, bathed Annabelle and put her to bed and watched tv with Audrey, did the 3:00 a.m. diaper changes and woke up a grumpy mama bear so she could nurse babies. But I felt tired. Now, after all of that, maybe I should have been tired. Except that I used to feel really good all of the time. I never had any aches or pains, no shivering rectum, no sneezing 50 times in a minute, no diarrhea after I eat Asian food. I used to wake up cheerful and went to bed the same way most days.

That was until I was pregnant. In my current delicate condition I have suffered from the following: Nausea, vomiting severe fatigue, bloating, heartburn, constipation, diarrhea, swollen extremities, joint aches, depression, malaise, back pain, reflux, sleeplessness, swollen lymph nodes, allergies, urinary incontinence, brittle nails, numbness in my fingers, irritability and the inability to get off the floor without grunting. My legs are unrecognizable--there is cellulite on my shins. I have stretch marks on top of my old stretch marks. My face looks like it has been stung by several Africanized bees and I have a spare chin. I now have cankles, my toes resemble Vienna Sausages and I haven't worn my wedding ring since April (let the record reflect that Hyphen's fingers are so chubby he hasn't been able to take his off for a few years). I can barely reach the sink to wash the dishes and Annabelle can no longer sit in my lap. The number on the scale has reached an unmentionable mark. My family is taking bets to see how long I will last and no one has put any money in November (my due date is 11/20) due to, as my dad put it "your healthy appearance."
[The record shall also reflect that if you use the phrase "your healthy appearance" to your very pregnant daughter, she will silently tell you to f!#* off and outwardly ask to talk to her mother.]

But since the card has only allowed me 5 minutes of bitching time, this is all I can say.

My baby is healthy. I am healthy. I am a healthy pregnant woman. And I am blessed.