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Saturday, January 10, 2004

Still hanging in there. I am so sore from bed rest. I need to get those "thigh calluses" again so it doesn't feel like my hip bones are coming through my skin. It wakes me up all night. My aching hips say, "Turn, for goodness’ sake, turn!" And just when it seems I've only been on the right side for five minutes I am waking up again with an urgency to turn on my left. ARGH! Later I will see a commercial with a little girl dressed in a frilly, pink dress, and nothing will matter but getting Elise to term.

By the way, I have neglected to mention that everything always smells like cigarettes and no one smokes. This pregnancy is insane! And only 19 more weeks, folks!

Yes, yes! Only 19 more weeks of my whining! If all goes well that is.

Also, I was paired up with a great support on the Sidelines Web site. She also had HG and IC and chose bed rest instead of cerclage. She had funneling and only half a centimeter left to her cervix! She also delivered her daughter on her due date! And her little one was over 11 pounds! I have talked to my support on the phone, and although I am still scared out of my mind, I feel much more hopeful and calm. It's a beautiful thing! This doesn't mean I've gone lax with my bed rest.

I have gotten a bedside potty to further express my commitment. And the best part ever is that my husband has to clean it! MUHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!
While he loudly protests the grotesque nature of his job I lie in here and snicker. He cleans the removable bucket, fills it with ice, and I pee like a highlander for the rest of the day. We do abide by Creole plumbing laws: "If it's pee let it be; If it's brown flush it down." But when I consider what I've been through and what he's been through in comparison, I think about breaking that law! And when he comes in here messin' with me about bacon, something that just sends nauseous shivers up and down my spine, I seriously want to bless him with some bedside potty Tootsie Rolls!

It's OK, though. I had a truckload of asparagus last night, and his gagged retching was music to my ears! Can you say "toxic paper mill wasteland?” Hey, I’m on bed rest 24/7; I get my kicks where I can.

All my hair is falling out, so in addition to being fatter and more uncomfortable the next time I write, I will also be bald. If fortune cookies were real my husband would have been warned.

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