I went into this pregnancy knowing it would be harder than my previous ones. I'm 10 years older, and my fibromyalgia is much worse than it was. We had plans in place with multiple doctors about how we would manage my pain. When I was less than 8 weeks, one of those doctors went back on that plan and took away one of the few medications that helps me. Tony and I understood the risks. My OB understood the risk. As a whole, we agreed the benefits would outweigh those risks, but nonetheless, they were taken away.

My first trimester was hard. Increased fatigue and nausea, brought on by the fibromyalgia. I lost weight. A good amount. I spent most of my time in bed, or laying in my bathroom so I was closer to the toilet. My pain would flair, but it was manageable.

I started trigger point injections in my shoulders/neck around 10 weeks. I now get them every 3 weeks, which will soon be every 2 weeks. At my last appointment I stopped counting around the 60th injection. It is not a pleasant experience, but without them I can't lift my arms, and the pain in my shoulders gets to the point that I can't even get up without help.

My second trimester wasn't as bad, but did bring with it many sleepless nights, low blood pressure and migraines. These were especially difficult with work, as getting up and leaving my house by 5:30am was not easy with the lack of sleep bringing on episodes of low blood pressure and migraines. Still I pushed through.

Today, I am 30 weeks. I'm into my third trimester, the final stretch. I've told myself that once I got here, it would be easier. The end was in sight. Unfortunately, it has been anything but easy. My fibromyalgia pain has gotten so much worse. The pains that used to plague me only at bedtime are now present all hours of the day. The claws running through my nerves rarely take a break. I get frustrated with myself at work because I can't work as fast as normal, because I need help with the things I've been doing on my own for 2.5 years. My days off are often spent in bed because I'm so tired from pushing myself, from the heat, from the lack of sleep.

Yesterday I had a very bad breakdown. I screamed at my mom over something that wasn't her fault. She was already nervous about the procedure she was about to undergo, and I was yelling at her. I will never be able to apologize enough. I sat in the car and I cried. I cried a lot. I told myself that I couldn't do this for 10 more weeks. That I couldn't handle the pain. My mind starting thinking of ways to put myself into labor, just to be done. Thankfully, those thoughts have passed.

When my pain started 14 years ago I was determined not to let it take over my life. When doctor after doctor wanted to put me on disability, I refused. It's not always easy. Things are getting harder. There are days the disease does win, more often than I'd like. Some days I look in the mirror and I don't recognize myself, but then I see it, that little spark in my eye. The one reminding me that I'm stronger than this. I am stronger than my pain. Even when I don't want to be, I will. Not just for the little boy growing inside me, but for my family that is always by my side supporting me, and encouraging me.

10 weeks. 70 days. I've fought, I've pushed through. I've made it this far. I will continue to fight, to push. And soon my baby boy will be in my arms.

Each bandaid is covering multiple injection sites.

One spot on my lower back