Apparently, all I need to do is complain about him, drink some city water, and spend an hour on all fours (thanks Sarah...I totally forgot about trying that), for Myles to take pity on his mama and move around. I swear I will never never never again complain about him being up too high in my ribs. I'd rather not breathe than not poop any day.
And thank you all for your...ummm...(helpful?)...suggestions. While I appreciate the thought, it's a bit more complicated. And rather than discuss the personal nature of my hoo-ha and the germs that reside within (not to mention making Steve turn another ten shades of red), I will just say that things will remain chaste and pure until this babe is born kicking and screaming (and then for whatever recovery period is necessary).
I am feeling better today. Now I need to find some breakfast. My stomach has been growling at me since 4am. I guess the tank is empty. Hallelujah!