33 weeks = baby as big as celery. Whatever that means.
I’ve been filling my jug today. It’s not as easy to do as it is to write. I need some UPS help with logistics.
I took the jug and supplies with me to Easter dinner and then didn’t use the bathroom there. But at least I was prepared.
A friend reached out and offered to tell me about her experiences with pre-eclampsia. I need to call her. And I’m grateful to her already.
My blood sugar survived Easter. Go me!
My husband thinks I have a cold. I think it’s allergies. I don’t want to deal with either. Who does, I ask you.