Slow, slow, slow, slow, slow, and that's when I'm awake. There was the sick and haggard phase, with profuse vomiting and nausea. And then there was the long, dragging return to semi-normalcy, but still with some nausea phase. This was followed by the persistent cough, achy and tired phase. And now I have reached the notably pathetic, gasping for breath, ready to pop, Sloth Woman phase. Please, I'm not looking for your sympathy (yea, I am.) I am merely giving a straight forward and accurate account of the miracle of life etc, etc...

There are moments when I suddenly recall that I am pregnant, and then I experience brief panic and mild confusion (actually, huge confusion.) Other thoughts include: I really gotta shave; the hair on my legs may impede swift delivery of the baby. If I go downstairs for my purse and the mail, how will I get back up the stairs?

I think the boys are alright. They seem to be getting smart, and finding food. No. That's too indifferent. I should dedicate several paragraphs describing how much help they have been to me. Throughout the day they demonstrate their love and concern, and show me a great deal of tenderness. I don't think we'd ever considering inviting a Papaya in to our lives we didn't have such wonderful children already. They give us faith and hope and joy.