Birthdays & Barfing

Yesterday I turned 27 - the age I will be when I give birth if all goes according to plan. It was a fairly uneventful day which is hilarious seeing as I was counting down back in September. It came and went with barely a blip on the party radar. Which was fine with me.

The night before I had come home from work exhausted. I'm talking feet-dragging, face-sagging, sheer exhaustion. It was brutal. Since Nate had an exam, grocery shopping & a hair cut to take care of, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to take a nap. An hour late I woke up to feelings of grossness. I wanted to die. I thought maybe water would help since it's so amazingly good at everything else. As I sat in my favorite chair enjoying the refreshing H2O I realize that I needed at that instant to RUN, not walk to the nearest and only bathroom as fast as humanly possible. I spend the next half hour puking and crying over my misfortune. I called Nate - no answer. I called my mom - she said she would be right there. Meanwhile Nate called back and said he'd be home in 5. I was so scared to leave the bathroom. It was rock bottom. Then I had two wonderful people literally FUSSING over me.

Man, I love being pregnant.