My stomach has finally eclipsed my feet!
Bending down has become impossible. And when I tried - in vain - to shave my legs in the shower a few days ago, I unwittingly cut myself. I fell on the razor while trying to reach my calf, but didn't notice for a half hour (I screamed when I saw blood on the towel and didn't calm down until I found the source two whole minutes later).
Put on stockings? Can I hire someone to get me dressed in the morning?
Just like in the first trimester - when the fatigue and nausea were debilitating - being pregnant has once again taken a turn for the difficult-to-live-through.
And my body just won't listen to reason.
"Come on! Let me sit in that bucket seat! Please just for one night, let me sleep on my back! I promise to buy you nice clothes once the baby takes up residence somewhere else!!"
My pleas fall on deaf ears. My deaf ears!!!
To add insult to injury, the fetus feels enormous and my stomach now lurches from side to side as it moves. I see tiny feet pushing through my skin. And it hurts!!
Why must tiny fetuses torture women so?