And I don't mean the Johnny Cash one...

I'm so so so glad it's Friday, even though The Mucus is still lingering. I’ve given up the fight. I can’t continue taking cold medicine. It makes me loopy and wooshy and high as an eighth grade cheerleader using those big fat markers to make a sign for the Winter Carnival. It also tends to give me hives. I often disregard this fact and dose up anyway, but this never turns out well. I constantly battle the struggle between feeling overly symptomatic (incessant nose blowing, headache, coughing, aches) or feeling drugged (spaced out, itchy inner-ears from the hives, feeling as if underwater). Neither option suits me. I’m jealous of those women who pound four Advil thereby squelching all aches and irritations. I take a tiny red Sudafed and I’m catatonic for two days. Usually I just suffer the symptoms and slurp mucus for a week.

But lately I’ve been thinking...what in the WORLD am I going to do if I ever have the opportunity to give birth? I’m not one of those strong granola-types who can squat, take the pain like a champ and then make pancakes for the family. And I fear that an epidural might induce a loopy drunken state for the first year of my child’s life and this would leave all the diaper brouhaha up to Perfect Ryan. And let’s be honest, he’s not THAT perfect. I like the idea of a medication-free midwife kinda birth. But I am equally freaked out by it – especially the “ring of fire” I’ve heard about. This does not sound like something I want to experience on purpose.

Not that I have reason to worry.
I’m not pregnant...today....