Searching the house high and low for my elusive ipod. I know I stuck it somewhere thinking "oh, of course I'll remember." Yeah. Not so much.
So, I'm looking through suitcases, thinking that I never unpacked it after a trip. I pull out a little pad of paper with three small words on it written in pencil. It is the suitcase that I had in the hospital, almost two years ago when giving birth to Little T.
It says "labor is awful."