The morning sickness had finally stopped, thank God.

But it had been replaced by constant backaches, swollen ankles, and the feeling that Little Bean was using my bladder as a personal punching bag. Seven months pregnant, and I felt like I was carrying a boulder instead of a baby.

"You need to sit down," Sarah said for the third time that morning, watching me waddle around the common area. "Lana would kill me if she knew I let you work yourself to exhaustion."

"I'm not working myself to ...