Six years ago today I came to the end of my most miserable pregnancy. For the last few months my skin itched so much that each night before bed Bill would wrap my arms mummy-like in towels and tape to keep me from scratching in my sleep. Each morning, we'd find that I'd removed the towels and scratched my arms raw again. It really looked like I was bleeding from every pore. I spent all my waking hours thinking--"Don't itch, don't itch, don't itch--just breathe."
Most of the time I try to forget that experience. But it all came back yesterday afternoon as I was hurrying into my room and I found this on my pillow.