A response to this post by Carina.
- "I hate church. It's the worst three hours of my week."
- "I want to go home and sleep for the next eighteen hours straight."
- "You're sure you don't want to release me?"
Not because of anything anyone else said or did (or didn't do!), but because my legs and feet were so swollen they looked like marshmallows, my fingers and wrists ache all day long from pregnancy arthritis, no clothes fit me well, and I cannot sit on a piano bench for two hours straight. Especially not without food and water. Contractions, kicking, dizzy spells, headache.
I guess I've hit that point?
(Really it was just a bad time. My Dr. saw me at the end of church and asked how I was feeling; after my response he asked if I'd like him to write a note to get me out of church. "I do know the bishop pretty well," I said.)