Throughout my entire adult life, a warm bath has been essential to my mental health. A bruised heart would mean taking two and sometimes even three hot baths a day... not feeling well... I'll sink myself into a swirling well of aromatherapy and let whatever pain medications I've ingested to start to work. My tub is where I find 30 minutes a day to visit the characters in the novels I'm reading, (currently the Mayfair Witches series again) and to reflect on the day behind me and plan the day ahead.
So the guys, being my husband and youngest son, have been patient and accommodating by leaving my horribly outdated, cracked tub alone. I'm pregnant! I need my bath! It's the one time of the day when I am sure to not feel some kind of pressure or pain or the gross effects of gravity on my swollen midsection.
So David and I have moved into the basement den. He pretty much moved our bedroom and set it up exactly as the way it was. I've never seen another person take someone else's comfort into such consideration. We laughed at us living in a 'basement suite' at our age, and especially while being pregnant. We're both a little apprehensive about the possibility of the baby (Brogan) coming early, but honestly, all he needs is a boob and a basket to be comfy for the first few weeks of life.
|No, we didn't do this pose yet,|
but it looks interesting, considering
how all the women are leaking things
we never knew we could leak, and
the class *is* a little crowded.