My name is Maria, and I'm 35 weeks pregnant with my second baby.
Three weeks ago, I hit rock bottom.
I was standing in my kitchen, trying to make breakfast for my 4-year-old daughter, when the pain in my feet became so unbearable that I just... broke.
I sat down on the kitchen floor and cried.
Not the hormonal pregnancy tears you hear about.
This was pure desperation.
My daughter came over and asked, "Mommy, why don't you want to play with me anymore?"
That question broke my heart.
Because she was right.
I had stopped being the mom I wanted to be.
No more trips to the playground.
No more walks around the neighborhood.
No more dancing in the living room.
Even standing long enough to cook dinner had become torture.
Every step felt like walking on broken glass.
The mornings were the worst.
That first step out of bed sent shooting pain through my heels that literally made me cry out.
My husband would find me gripping the bathroom doorframe, tears streaming down my face, just trying to make it to the shower.