The Struggle is Real
I thought getting out of bed in the morning was hard...
But that only takes one helping hand.
Then I tried taking off my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. Alone.
Not possible.
That takes two helping hands...and a couple helping biceps too.
Because...I can't touch my toes anymore.
I can see them - at least I can see them - but as far as getting my shoes on or taking tight pants off...forget it. I'd rather go barefoot and sausage around in my pants that won't clasp than try - in vain and sweat and mad frustration - to do either alone. But praise God for Adam. Oh my gosh, the man deserves a medal. A gold one. Like, the most bestest, most expensive kind there exists. He helps me do everything - everything - and though we laugh about my incapacity to complete most of my normal tasks without aid, I am more and more in awe of his servant heart as the days go by.
He's such a good man.
Such a good husband.
And I know he'll be such a good daddy.
10 more weeks, people!
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