Even with the screaming from gas in such quantities that we regularly trade off who gets to burn cigarettes into our arms instead of having to hear it directly in our ears.

Even with the unpredictable schedule that makes me feel like I am on acid.

Even with the regurgitated breastmilk baths I have been getting, like I'm at some exclusive spa that only the very rich and very pretentious go to.

Even with the numerous outfit changes and ninety-four extra loads of laundry a day.

Even with gummy nipples that no longer know how to be themselves without being stretched in several different directions within one minute by a strong baby mouth.

Do I miss being THIS pregnant: