SamaLotus

Hello and thanks for stopping by!  :)
 
I don't know where to start or where to begin... I will say that you have quite a read ahead of you, so tuck-in if you so desire and let me tell you a tale of a little fat lady in the desert who just wants to live to see great-grandchildren scuttling about in my yard decorated with cheeky gnomes and random adornments.
 
I am a 30-something married mom of two ittles; well, not-so-ittles now that one is about to go into second grade and the other into first. I don't know where the time goes but it is going, for sure! Speaking of delightful belly fruit, of which I am eternally blessed with, grateful for, and better because of; they are also a majority of the reason why I am here. Well, no. That's not fair. Their fault lies only in existing and mine... well mine lies at the bottom of a long-trudged red and white bucket lined with donuts and french-fried shame. 
 
In all seriousness, my husband and I, who have pinky-promised a forever plus one for over twelve years now, never thought that we would conceive. Doctors told me it would be a miracle, and when that miracle came she brought with her a little something called pre-eclampsia. Once this was discovered, my doctor ordered me on the strictest of bed rests; rising only to use the bathroom- and only if utterly necessary. 
 
Imagine if you will, a woman who is pregnant, on bed-rest, and married to a man who is over-the moon to learn that he was going to be a father. He treated me as if I were made of glass... or maybe ceramic, because by the end I looked like some kind of horrendous piggy bank. Any craving or whim that baby or myself could conjure up my husband would make so. While this did wonders for the bonds of our eternal love and understanding that refusal could very well equate death, it did not fare so well on my ever expanding body... and not just in the "bump" region. 
 
...To Be Continued...