31 weeks. The side effects from steroid shots I had last Monday and Tuesday have officially worn off.
I made the decision that I will simply not stand for the rest of this pregnancy.
Like I literally will not physically stand up on my legs until mid December, maybe longer. I don’t know. We’ll just play it by ear.
Pickle juice helps with leg cramps and headaches.
Compression socks give me leg cramps and headaches.
So it works out I guess.
We had family in town this past weekend which was wonderful, except that I didn’t even get to show them our shower drain which I so furiously cleaned in a fit of roid rage.
I walked myself into false labor at the pumpkin patch yesterday, but at least I got to see Arbor fake-milk a fake-cow:
Her enthusiastic squeegeeing of this fake cow’s fake teats got me researching the intricacies and difficulties of owning a real live milk cow, cause this child would be the cutest little milkmaid I’ve ever seen.
(Note: I’ve never seen an actual milkmaid except on the front of a Swiss Miss box.)
I see my doctor again tomorrow because apparently I make her nervous with my gigantic tummy full of twins who are pressing all the wrong buttons trying to bust outta here well before their time. My blood pressure is excellent and my blood sugar is fairly decent, so even though I’m going on my sixth and seventh deliveries, I’m confident that these guys will stay put until at least December. Children of mine are historically known to jack with me just enough to be a little scary; but they always manage to hang in there and make me physically miserable until the very last second.
Life is good. Nauseating and exhausting, but good.