The Breath Monster

Have I told you how hard it is to breathe lately? Jesus H is it hard. But not consistently, so I have no idea when to be prepared with a paper bag and oxygen tank. Last week I was sitting on the couch, watching TV before bed, and I felt like I was in a documentary about summiting Kilimanjaro. Really, I was sitting on the couch. The books say to prop yourself up with multiple pillows, or to raise the head of your bed a couple inches to ease this problem; well, books, I wasn’t in bed when it happened, so thanks for nothin’. And also, our mattress is on the floor because we’re moving and sold our bed frame, so what else you got for me?

I went on two hikes this weekend. One, with a bunch of my college buddies, was fine. I’m no super hiker to begin with, so it felt pretty normal. Luckily I didn’t look like a complete pregnant woman in front of them because man, do I hate that. The second hike, two days later, however, was a whole different story. And it was a shorter hike, that’s the kicker. What normally takes 30 minutes max to summit took me probably almost an hour. I had to stop and sit down at one point. Pathetic! Hubby is quite understanding (I think he’s got the right attitude—Man Guilt) and stopped with me, distracting me from my racing heart with stories, etc., but I just felt so feeble and ridiculous it was incredible. So I would say I feel officially pregnant and it’s only going to get worse. Ruh-roh!