You see, my little womb squatter has compromised my ability to ward off the common cold and cough and it has increasingly gotten worse since Friday. I haven't slept in three nights, practice for when my little bundle is born, but that isn't the record that I've broken. Someone call Mr. Guinness, because I've reached geriatric levels of pants wetting. Every time I cough, I pee a little... okay, okay, sometimes a lot. Yes, a maxi can save me from most little tinkle squirts, but I truly had to change my pants FIVE times today due to Niagra-like consequences of cough attacks.
I feel like such a record should be documented for further proof of why I should never have another baby.
With the new school year right around the corner and few obvious signs of labor, I've decided to stock up on depends and pack my own diaper bag until the little buddy gets here. Then I can again hide myself and my embarrassing pregnancy mishaps within my own living room while practicing my kegels during maternity leave.
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