When I was pregnant, everyone was all about "warning" me about what was coming next. I walked
around much of those 10 (let's face it, pregnancy is 10, not nine, months) absolutely terrified.
When I was pregnant, everyone was all about "warning" me about what was coming next. I walked
around much of those 10 months (let's face it, pregnancy is 10, not nine, months) absolutely terrified.
The warnings flew at me from every angle -- in the checkout line at Target, on the street, slipping my
shoes on and walking out of the yoga studio. Warnings, warnings everywhere about what was to
come -- from the excruciating, mind-numbing pain of childbirth to the shell of my former self I was
about to become once I had her. There were times I felt like a prisoner on death row, trying to force
myself to enjoy some tiny luxury despite my size and discomfort, because if you asked around,
apparently, my petty joys would be ending pretty soon!
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