“You’ve got great hips. A nine and a half pound baby could fit through there. Yours is only seven pounds so far!” My midwife’s face was gentle and reassuring, the smile genuine.
Bizarrely, I felt a sense of pride at her statement, as though something other than genetics and luck have had anything to do with my good prospects. This misplaced surge
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I can't wait to be able to bend at the waist and exercise. I'm sure there are people that genuinely love pregnancy, but I'm not one of them. :)
Can we say "one and done" club? Oh yes, yes we can.
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