Proof that you can't stay pregnant forever (That means YOU, Mrs. S)

*cough*

*bark*

*wheeze*

*sniff sniff sniff*

Okay, you get the idea. I am still feeling miserable. Too miserable even for good blogging. So miserable, in fact, that I'll probably go back to the doctor tomorrow to make sure that I am not in the throes of death. Because I am over-dramatic like that.

Anyway, in lieu of having to actually think, and proofread, and write, I thought, "Hey! I'll just add pictures to G's fourth birthday post from last month! Everybody likes pictures!"

Yes. Well. That was a lovely idea, but there's that little issue of, you know, Blogger is an ASS. So it will not let me insert the photos into the actual birthday post. But it WILL let me put the pictures in a NEW post. So here are the photos, totally out of context. But I will caption for you.

June 2002 - six months pregnant and headed to the lake (where pregnant women can enjoy the bliss of being weightless)

August 2002 - almost 8 months pregnant. Hubby and I had professional belly shots done, and to this day, this is my favorite photo of us together. We look peaceful and loving because we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

Um, some excessive swelling. Painful swelling. I could not even bend my toes. I kept slippers at school because they were the only shoes that fit.

This is Garrett (Yes! I said his name!) at one month of age. Before he was born, I bought two matching Gymboree outfits, one for a boy and one for a girl. I never returned the girl outfit, and nineteen months later I got to put it on my baby girl, Laura (I know! Another name!)

Mommy, 26 years old, and G, 5 months old.

Daddy, age 28, and G, age 20 months.

My little buddy, almost four years old.

You can go back to my September archives to the post titled "Four." if you are so inclined. That's where these pics should have gone!