So I try really hard not to complain about my pregnancy (Darrell is doubled over in laughter at that statement--I give him the full brunt of my complaining since I avoid doing it publicly), but I've officially decided that one of the cruelest and worst things that can happen to a (VERY) pregnant lady is to get a cold. As if my lungs weren't already running out of room making it difficult for me to take deep breaths, now I can't take deep breaths even if I try because of all this lovely congestion. Plus thanks to dear little parasite in my belly, there isn't a whole lot I can take for said congestion. Joy.
But. At least I was able to get a reasonably decent night's sleep last night. We'll refrain from discussing how many pillows that required. And at least this is all I really have to complain about. I may be mopey and annoyed right now, but I still have the ability to recognize that I am fortunate to have been blessed with two remarkably uneventful pregnancies. And if the least of my worries is getting a cold while 8.5 months pregnant, well, I suppose I can suck it up and deal with it. But only after I throw myself a little pity party first.
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