Sensory Development

From what I have been told, the little critter can now sense light changes. One article said he can see outlines of objects. I couldn't really tell if they meant objects outside his uteran home or if they meant outlines of his own body parts. I feel that him being able to see through all that and distinguish stuff on the outside is a bit improbable, but this whole knocked up experience has changed my definition of probable.

So last night I was sitting on the couch and he was competing with his high scores in his nightly game of How Hard Can I Kick This Woman?, mixed in with his other favorite, I'm Gonna Push Really Hard...Right HERE! He's a gamer. He gets that from his father.

All of this action was making my stomach move so much I could see my shirt moving. So, in an attempt to see better, I pulled my shirt up over my stomach exposing it to the light. As soon as I did that, he totally stopped moving. I thought he was being a brat and not providing me with the entertainment I was seeking so I put my shirt back down. Right away he got back to playing. I am telling you he is a Ninja baby...he moves only in the shroud of darkness.

At least it's not 6

Doctor's appointment today. Add about 5 more pounds to the total. That puts us at 21 pounds total so far. Not too bad. I have totally given in to the weight thing. There's no stopping it so why bother being bothered by it. I'll just keep doing what I have been doing and we'll figure it all out when the knocked up portion is over. See how far I've come? I think it helps that my stomach feels so big to me that I feel like every ounce I gain is going there and there only. It also helps that I was able to wear a pair of my regular pants on Monday. They were really low rise, but they were not maternity. No extra panel of comfort material there! It's unbelievable how comforting that was.

In other good news, I found out I am allowed to take Zyrtec. A miracle allergy medicine put on the earth by angels to stop suffering humans from removing their eyeballs to scratch them. It was either eyeball removal or I was going to take a blow torch to every lilac bush within a 24 mile radius. But now? Now I get to ingest the sweet nectar known as Zyrtec. I had to restrain myself from making out with my doctor when she told me.

The fetal movement is out of control. I sat on the couch last night watching the kid moving around. It is so strange. I thought feeling him move was weird. That's nothing compared to watching a part of your body move...and you are not the one moving it. The force of the movement is also impressive. I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that a baby the size of a pineapple can move with that much speed and power. He actually woke me up from a nap yesterday. Although since I had accidentally fallen asleep at my desk, at work, perhaps I should be thankful for his strength.

All parts big and not so small

The swelling seems to be very happy in its new digs. Those digs being my hands and feet. No joke, it looks as though my skin may just burst...like a bratwurst boiled too long. I still have the luxury of the swelling going away in my feet about every other day. But when I do have the foot swelling, I get these fat creases right at the end of my toes where they connect to my feet. Add that to the pretty red/purple color of the foot as a whole. Nothing but hotness. The hands though...oh the hands. My rings do not fit at all. My fingers now have a striking resemblance to breakfast sausages. I am afraid some hungry soul is going to dip them in syrup and bite them off soon.

My belly also is quite large. And gaining size at what feels like a daily pace. Based on women I know that are due right around the same time I am, this belly of mine is pretty small. But based on what I am used to, it is humungoid. I can't seem to get it through my thick skull that I have a big ol' 20lb basketball attached to my stomach. I keep bumping into things. I went to pose for a picture with Travis on Saturday and I didn't plan on stopping in time to accommodate for the belly. So instead of joining the photo op in the way any functioning adult would have, I bounced off of him. This shouldn't surprise me as when I am wearing my glasses instead of my contacts, I regularly knock them off my face while talking with my hands. Both situations are impressive examples of my mad skills.

So Sleepy

The past two nights have been riddled with sleeplessness. I cannot find a comfortable position. Except on my back, which I am not supposed to do. Some stuff about the baby possibly laying on the umbilical cord and lessening the blood supply. I supposed I can try to accommodate.

I am having a really hard time though. My belly is getting big enough that it is not comfortable when it sags over to the bed when I lay on my side. Super attractive, but not comfortable. I try sleeping with a body pillow, but then I get all hot. Which does not help with the night sweats. And laying on my side for a long time now produces cramps in my hips. 'Cause why not?

The part that is really weird is that when I switch from one side to the other, I have to pause in the middle to let the little guy catch up. Otherwise he is all settled on one side and then I roll over and it's like he is stuck on the one side but up high. Let me tell you it does not feel all that great when he slowly gives in to the force of gravity and repels across my stomach to the other side. All while apparently trying his hardest to stay where he was.

Anytime someone asks how I am feeling and I say tired, I get the same type of response. Something along the lines of "Better get used to it", or "You don't know what tired is yet", or "Get your rest now". With annoying giggles of experience. Yes. I understand. I will be getting much less sleep very very soon due to a hungry and pooping miniature human. But you asked how I am feeling now. And I am feeling tired. Obviously I am not feeling bitchy though...at all.

Garoooossss

Nobody told me about the night sweats. At least not attached to pregnancy. I am aware of this glorious phenomenon women can experience during the Big Change, but I have never seen it mentioned as a side effect of being knocked up.

It is wretched. I wake up at least once a night completely soaked with sweat. Like to the point I have beads of sweat running off my body and the sheets are wet. It doesn't seem to matter if I try to sleep with no covers and a fan on high. Inevitably, I wake up a sweaty sweat monster. I am going to have to start sleeping on a towel.

So since nobody ever mentioned this, I of course am thinking I am a freak. So I did what every sane person with a possible medical issue does...I googled it. And what do you know? It is super common. I'm not a freak!

The advice given by many docotors on many different sites...Suck it up. Nice.

Once Again, Deep Breaths

Yesterday marked the 36th anxiety attack/meltdown of the pregnancy. I don't know if it has been that many, but it feels like it sometimes. There is just so much shit bouncing around in my brain. Ha! Just called myself shit for brains. Yep, the self esteem must be flying high today!

Anyway, yesterday I read this article and it sent me into a bit of a tailspin. All of a sudden, I decided I don't want to have a kid anymore. Little late for that, I realize. I started freaking out because I really like the way our lives are now. Well, more they way there were pre-preggo, but close enough. We are doing just fine as a family with a canine child only. She is moderately low maintenance, fairly inexpensive, and provides all the snuggles one could want. I could have been happy with that. But no, we had to go and decide we needed more. And the addition we chose? Very high maintenance, very expensive, but still provides a lot of snuggles.

I know the problem here is my fear of big changes. But this is a B-I-G change and I am more than a little scared. So my brain just wants the only logical answer...Keep everything the way it is. Presto! No change to deal with. Very healthy.

There is also the sacrifice. Sacrifice of my time, wants, and needs. It is embarrassingly selfish, but right now, I am not sure I want to give those things up. I like being able to go where and when I want. I like being able to take my time doing something because it is my time.

I know I have said this before, but I am also very worried about the effect this change is going to have on Travis. I feel like I have a better understanding only because I already have to limit what I can do. Being a baby oven comes with its limitations. I just feel like this is going to be like walking into a giant brick wall of reality for us, but more so for him.

Speaking of Travis, he got to come home to a crying spazoid of a wife. And as always, he handled it like a champ. He reminded me that this wasn't a decision we came to lightly. That we had talked about all of this stuff and still had thought it was a good idea. That we didn't want to be sitting there 20 years from now, regretting we didn't take this step. And we have tackled some pretty sizable challenges together and have come out alright. He also reassured me that I am not the only person to ever have these feelings. That it is a huge sacrifice, but we have never met someone that said they would go back and change it if they could.

I just have to say, this kid better be cute! It helps more than I should admit when I am frustrated with Aiden, so I am thinking it could work with baby frustrations too.

Before he left this morning, Travis made sure to check that I am feeling better today. And I am. Don't let me fool you, I am still scared. We are taking on the challenge of a lifetime that is going to last a lifetime. There's no getting out of this one. But, I think we can do it. And I am pretty sure we aren't going to want to get out of this one.

Large and in charge

I think this kid is growing a noticeable amount every day. Saturday and Sunday I was feeling pregnant, but not Jabba the Hut size. Those days are now long gone. I have welcomed the Jabba feeling into my life. Well, maybe not welcomed, but accepted.

This morning I was getting ready for work and was wearing a white fitted tank top. Based on that outfit, I officially do not understand how my body is defying physics and allowing me to stay upright. Every time I see a reflection of myself, it looks like I should be toppling over on my face. At least my ass isn't getting as big to compensate. That would not be ok. At all.

My bellybutton has not yet popped out and formed that weird balloon knot looking thing. It is definitely getting shallower, but it's still holding its ground and remaining an inny. Just a stretched out inny.

As I have said before, we are fairly certain we have identified his head located to the upper left of my bellybutton. Well last night he was moving all around and I kinda pushed a little where his head normally is. And there was no head there. It was soft, not at all like the boulder in the stomach feeling that was there just a half hour before. Then I found it, still on the left side, but much lower. I showed Travis and then got freaked out. Is he moving into the head down position? Because if he is, the reality of birth is quickly approaching. Maybe not quickly quickly, but faster than my little brain wants to admit. As long as he is all high up using my stomach and ribs as sparring partners, he is not shoving his way out of my body. But moving lower means moving out.

I realize this is going to have to happen. I just don't want to think about it. Because when I think about it, all my fears for my parts come rushing in. I would like all parts to return to fairly normal working order after this whole ordeal, and I don't think it is irrational to have the fear that they won't. I can't imagine these boobs are going to be able to go back to their original shape, or ending location for that matter, after having been this huge. And, have you ever stretched out a rubber band for an extended amount of time? It doesn't go back to it's original size. And nobody likes a stretched out rubber band.

Yep, still pretty uncomfortable.

Apparently allergy season is in full force in our great state. Good gravy. My eyes are about four scratches from falling out of my head. And my throat itches so intensely it makes my inner ear itch. I feel slightly bad for Travis as this is the first year he has truly experienced allergies. I only feel slightly bad because now I have a partner in my misery. Except he can take allergy medicine. Due to this lovely bun in my oven, I cannot. At least from everything I have read. I am planning on contacting my doctor's office shortly to find out the truth according to them.

This child and I have reached a point where I believe we are both uncomfortable. I know I am, and based on how hard my stomach is I can't imagine he has much room left in there. The other clue that he may be not so comfy is his constant attempts to escape. I swear one of these days I am going to be walking around with a head coming out of my stomach to the left of my belly button and a foot coming out of my right side. I'm not sure if he missed the memo about how he is supposed to exit, or maybe he really wants to be born via C-Section. Can't say I blame him. Neither can my hoo-ha.

I am pretty sure the evilness known as a gas bubble was back early this morning. And this time it was mobile. If I laid on my right side the bubble caused a sharp pain on my left side much like what I would imagine it to feel like if I were to be stabbed with a hot fire place poker. The really cool part, if I rolled over, the pain went to the other side. Kinda like bubbles in a soda bottle. Except evil and painful. And sleep interrupting.

I am itchy, packed full with a squirming kid, and sleepy. This does not a happy lady make.

Ha! We are going to be parents.

We spent the day in Platteville yesterday at my brother- and sister-in-law's house. They have three boys with birthdays very close together so they usually have one big big party for them. My brother-in-law, Jason, is a teacher at Platteville high school, and a track coach, and a basketball coach. For the past three years they have organized a birthday party for their boys involving some high school students competing against the younger kids in an American Gladiator style competition. They transform their backyard into an outdoor arena with games like the gauntlet and the joust. It is so much fun and hilarious to watch. Both the high school kids and the kids at the party love it. There are few things more fun to watch than a 6 year old getting all pumped up to tackle a high school senior...who of course puts up a bit of a fight but inevitably goes down.

I am writing about this because I think Julie and Jason are amazing parents. Their boys are awesome. They give their all to their kids and it shows. My feelings of doubting my ability to be a decent parent have been a bit overwhelming lately. It is so mind boggling to think that Travis and I are going to be the ones instilling values and teaching life lessons to this kid. Who says we are qualified? I know most, if not all, people about to have a kid have these feelings. But that doesn't make it any easier to think about. There are a lot of really nice people out there. But there are a whole lot of really not nice people too. Do all the not nice people have horrible parents? Where did they go wrong? Will we make the same mistakes? How can I know what to do to make sure my kid ends up being a functioning member of society?

Me in charge of a human...This is some scary shit and he's not even here yet!

I'm moving into the bathroom.

12 times. That is how many times I peed yesterday. 12. In one day. And every time I sat down after peeing, I felt like I could easily pee in my pants. This has taught me something. Angel Soft toilet paper? Sucks. The people at that company apparently have a very intriguing idea what the softness of an angel feels like. I have to admit, I have never met an angel, but I think there is a general understanding of how soft an angel might be if you were to ever touch one. My guess is that it doesn't feel like scraping sand paper across your most precious bits.

The part I don't get is that this kid has moved the highest up he has been the whole time he's been cooking. So one would stand to reason the constant having to pee sensation would be lessened as it seems he is the farthest away from my bladder. He is snuggled tightly up against my rib cage. All the way across. And still trying to push out my right side. Let's not forget that pleasant sensation. I swear when I go into labor, the doctor is going to be very confused when she has to deliver this kid from out of my right side, but that has got to be his plan. Anyway, it is beyond my medical training to understand how he is even able to put pressure on my bladder. Color me confused.

The awesome thing about him being where he is now is that he is no longer playing with my sciatic nerve like a guitar string. I now very rarely get the searing hot knife pain in my butt, or down my leg. Not having that is pure bliss.

Acceptance

I am feeling a little less freaky about the weight thing. It just surprised me yesterday. I had gotten used to going to the doctor once a month and only gaining a couple pounds each time, so that many pounds in just two weeks? I was a bit taken aback.

Travis's way of letting me know I shouldn't be stressed about it? He bought ice cream for me on his way home. Just his way of saying, don't worry, it'll all be fine, have something yummy. And I did. And it was.

The women at Motherhood? They can suck it. I had to go to buy something other than jeans as I am guessing I am not going to want to be wearing jeans once June hits. Normally the people working there are very nice and helpful. Last night? No, no, no. Waaaaay too "helpful". Listening to the conversation I am having with the person I am shopping with and then trying to guide me to different items in the store is annoying. Also, referring to me needing more space in the already gigantic fitting rooms? Not very nice. But neither of those came close to to when I almost lost it on the woman ringing me up. I had to buy XL capris. Unless I am shopping in the Juniors' section at Target, I am not an XL. I had started out trying on smaller sizes of this particular pair of pants and ended up at an XL. So needless to say, I was not pleased about having to buy XL pants. And I was rather vocal about it. So when she is ringing me up, she doesn't say a word about the two shirts I purchased. No. The only thing she says? "So the extra large pants worked out for you then?" Yes bitch, they did. Thank you for drawing more attention to it. I realize she was just trying to be nice, and I was a tad sensitive about my size yesterday. But come on. When you work in a store that women are unhappily gaining weight maybe you just should shy away from mentioning out loud what size they are buying. Just a thought.

6 Pounds.

Seriously. 6 pounds. In two weeks. Good gravy. The weight gain is getting real all of a sudden. That is just nutty. 3 pounds a week!?! I had prepared myself for 2 pounds a week. And yes I understand 3 is only one more pound a week, but a gain of 6 pounds sounds much bigger than a gain of 4 pounds. 4 pounds is still cute. 6 pounds is closer to 10. And that is not alright.

I asked my doctor if she was ok with 6 pounds in two weeks. She laughed at me. In a nice kind of way. In a "oh, you have no idea how big you are about to get" kind of way. She said that gaining 6 pounds in two weeks was ok, but if it keeps up at a pace of 3 pounds a week, we may have to keep a closer eye on things. Ummm...ya think?!? That would mean 27 more pounds. On top of the 11 already packed on to various parts of my body. I realize that is not excessive when it comes to average weight gains during preggo-times. But it is just so much. Just about 40 pounds is a lot of weight. That is a child's worth. I feel like my ass has grown two sizes since stepping on that scale.

The good part about the visit to the doctor with the evil scale is that I got to hear his heartbeat again. Squishity squish squish. The size of my uterus is measuring right where it should be and his heartrate is right where that should be. So all is good.

Space Needed

Well, the uncomfortable-ness has arrived. Not all the time, but pretty close. The main source of the discomfort would be this kid apparently trying to climb inside my appendix. I almost constantly have a fairly large, very hard, bump sticking out of my right side just a bit below my ribs. This is in conjunction with another very hard, but a bit larger, bump to the left and slightly up from my belly button. I can't tell what is what, but I am guessing one side is his butt and one side is his head. At this point in his life, I am hoping the larger bump of the two is his head. But then I sometimes think the smaller bump trying to push out my right side is a foot. I want another picture of him! He is staying in this position pretty much all the time, so the photo session would be quick. I am just so curious as to what is going on in there. I am tempted to try to make something up that might be wrong so they will do another ultrasound. But I think that might be pushing my luck and karma...just a bit.

Staying in one position for more than 8 minutes and 23 seconds also brings on discomfort. I find myself very fidgity. At work I am constantly repositioning myself. Which I have to admit is also a trick to keep myself awake. When I get home and am on the couch, I am tossing and turning and sitting up and laying down and rearranging the blanket. The dog is starting to get annoyed. And then when we go to bed...total crap shoot. Sometimes I can immediately get comfortable and not seem to move for hours. But then there are the nights when not moving for a while sends cramps to my butt, back and legs. Fun Fun Fun. I have to say though, finding a comfortable sitting position is the most difficult. Especially because it is really hard to cross my legs anymore.

I have become increasingly curious about what this kid is going to look like. I can totally bank on the fact that he is going to be hairy. It's a trend in my family. A very hairy trend. No bald babies for us. But I want to know what his face looks like. And his belly and legs and butt.

Don't let me fool you, I am still in "holy shit we are having a baby" mode. I am excited to meet him, but this whole thing scares the day lights out of me. No turning back now. Face it and embrace it woman.

Good thing she's cute.

Our dog is spoiled rotten. The couch is her favorite lounging place. Every morning she gets a piece of chicken jerky before she goes out and a treat when she comes back in if she manages not to bark at the pesky squirrels that love to taunt her. In the winter she sleeps in bed with us. I have to admit, she makes a good heater.

However, when people think having a dog is a good test for parenthood, I wholeheartedly agree. I mean it obviously isn't quite the commitment, but it's gotta be the closest thing you can get to it without actually having a kid. Now, one small admission that must be made, I think I may be slightly more attached to my dog than most people. I talk to her constantly, overly snuggle her, and constantly play with her ears. She makes me very happy.

She also tests my patience. On pretty much a daily basis. She barks incessantly at the kids that skateboard past our house. She shreds the mini blinds when there is thunder. If she doesn't feel like sleeping, apparently I am not supposed to feel like sleeping. And then there is the rolling. In anything and everything smelly. Well, not everything. She usually pretty much avoids poo. Unless it's from the rabbits in our yard. She saves that poo for eating.

But back to the rolling. Many deer use the dog park we frequent for their sleeping quarters. Leaving behind a patch of patted down grass that smells like deer. If you have never thought about what a deer smells like...be happy. They stink. Horribly. She loves loves loves to roll in these beds. Which means only one thing. Immediate bath.

Today took the cake. Not only did she find a deer bed, but this particular deer bed had a special present. A dead fish. She rolled on this fish three times before I got to her. The bath today involved copious amounts of tomato juice. And then about 6 & 1/2 cups of shampoo. The bathroom smelled like a rotten fish pasta dish.

The thing that kills me about this whole thing. As soon as the bath was over all I wanted to do was snuggle her. I even had a hard time not petting her little smelly rotten fish head on the way home from the park. I had to keep reminding myself that there was dead fish juice on her and I didn't want to touch that.

I can only think that if I have this kind of love for a dog, a furry, slobbery, critter with feet that smell like Fritos, that I didn't grow in my belly for 10 months...I am never going to be able to comprehend the love I am going to experience once I meet this kid.

To Swell or Not To Swell

I don't get it. Some days I wake up and everything other than my stomach and boobs is normal sized. Then by noon, my feet have turned into things resembling over stuffed bratwurst and my wedding ring is cutting off the circulation to my finger. Then, by the next morning things are back to normal. Then other days everything stays the size it is supposed to be for the whole day. Very strange.

I have to say I would much rather have it this way than to be swollen all day every day. It just baffles me as to what makes my body decide when it is going to blow up like a balloon filled with marshmallow fluff. It doesn't seem to be set off by something I eat or do or don't do.

I am looking forward to when my body will be back to normal. Well, hopefully normal. At least back to predictable.

Right foot yellow. Left hand red.

The array of movements this kid has amazes me. There are the normal kicks and rolls and that good stuff. But then there is the pushing. He pushes up against my sides so hard you can feel the outline of whatever body part has decided it needs more room. Currently I believe there is a foot having a territory war with my appendix. But, not to worry, in about four minutes, his arm will be occupied pushing my stomach out of the way. And just for good measure a butt is busy wiggling it's way into a comfy spot on my bladder.

He has got to be stretched out like a gumby doll. That is the only logical explanation I can come up with for how he is able to reach all of these places at once. Or he's a mean twister player. It's either that, or he is really really big and really long. And let's just not go there with just over two months of growing time 'til the due date. Good? Good.

The movement is super calming though. Mentally anyway. Not so much physically. I don't really realize how much I pay attention to his movements until he doesn't move for a while. And as soon as I notice I haven't noticed anything for a while it is all I can focus on. I am far enough along that my doctor told me to do occasional kick counts. I should be able to feel 10 kicks within 2 hours. If he doesn't get up to 10 within that time, something could be amiss. So the other night I am sitting on the couch and realize I can't remember the last time he moved. I immediately lay down on my left side and wait. Ready to count. The clock is running. Yeah...25 minutes in, we were up to 10. I think I maybe just a little bit overreacted. Maybe.

Baaadow!

And now for the true belly pictures.

May 5, 2009
Kinda pointy looking if you ask me.

And damn. That's all there is to say about this.

So there it is. In all it's giant glory. It is hard to imagine that this belly is going to get sooo much bigger.

And by the way, the waddle is sneaking up on me. I can feel it. Like a tiger just waiting to pounce. Well, a slow fat wobbly tiger, but a tiger nonetheless!

I have to note the top picture looks a bit odd to me. The angle of the picture is not right. I promise my legs are not that short. It kinda looks like my arms are bigger than my legs. I don't know, it's kinda weird, but the point was the giant kid belly I have hanging off the front. I never thought I would say this, but focus on that!

May 5th.

So we decided to create our own string theory. Being how much string does it take to get around the belly of the beast. Doesn't look so bad here...

But then when you stretch it out...holy shit. That is a long piece of string. Like a serious amount of length. Uber preggo.

Fine.

I have been told some people want to see pictures of this belly of mine. Well, here we go.



March 17, 2009

April 3. 2009

It has begun.

Based on the last two nights, the sleepless nights have started. Which in combination with the weird-ass dreams I have been having for the last 7 months, leads to a sleepy lady. Strangely, and totally frickin' awesome, I still don't have to get up to pee. I have a feeling this may change the more I am laying there awake, but for now I am wallowing in the bliss of my bed.

I think doing my best to not fall asleep on the couch might help my chances of actually sleeping once I am in bed. Problem there is my couch is the most comfortable couch in all of couchland. I suppose I could get up off the couch when I feel myself getting sleepy. However, that maneuver now requires two cranes and a tow truck, so I just usually burrow in deeper.

The other little gem that is in full force now is my ability to worry about 13 things simultaneously. I'm talking everything from wondering if I should have gone ahead and gotten the quad-screen test done to being completely freaked out about giving birth. And e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g in between. Is he moving enough? What if he comes early? What if he comes late? What should I pack in my hospital bag? What if labor starts at the exact moment both our cars breakdown and Kari can't be reached, all at the same time the world decides to stop moving on its normal orbital path? I mean really?!?! WHAT IF?!

No need to be concerned. I am totally calm and rational. If I were a hyena.

Presents Galore!

Good Gravy! We received so much baby stuff at the shower on Saturday. I think I used the word overwhelming about 1, 647 times. There is just so much stuff! I was thoroughly impressed when Travis was able to fit everything in the truck to get it home from my parents' house. I am positive it was only possible because of the packing help of our 4 year old nephew, Max. The kid's got skills.

The generosity of everyone at the shower was amazing. Again, overwhelming.

Travis had to work Sunday, but he got up early and unloaded everything from the truck into the nursery so I didn't try to lift stuff I shouldn't be lifting. So, when I got up, and raced to go pee, I was dumbfounded in the hallway looking into the nursery. There was maybe two square feet of open space. The rest of the room was filled with all the presents. I almost peed right there.

My morning consisted of going through countless gift bags and putting things away or in a giant pile to get washed. I can officially report that I am smarter than a bouncy seat. I only had to take it apart once after I had it put together. Only to find out that I had it right the first time. But! It is put together and ready to bounce a baby.

I also washed and put all the bedding on the crib and hung the mobile. First, it is so cute. Second...holy shitballs. It appears to be ready for a baby. A real baby. Things are getting close. Really close. Like could feasibly happen at any time type of close.

The afternoon was for raking the yard. Lots o' sticks. And then napping as raking at 7+ months pregnant? Totally counts as a workout.

Alien in my belly.

I am still nowhere near feeling normal when this kid moves around. It is the strangest feeling. It still feels like stuck farts, just really big stuck farts.

A lot of the movement I feel is really low. Like low enough that I asked my doctor about it...twice. And I was told, the baby is allowed to move wherever he wants. But I am telling you, yesterday it felt like he was about to poke right out. It was like he was on a scientific dig in there. Poking here, rolling there, Hey! What's down there? Nutty.

I have decided that unless there is any sort of pain or pressure or any other indication that something is amiss, I am going with what my doctor says. That doesn't mean I have stopped poking him. He can move wherever he wants, I just want to be able to poke him and get him to move whenever I want!

I have also realized that I drum my fingers on my stomach quite a bit. It makes me wonder what that sounds like to him. Is it like when you tap on a fish tank? Which you are not supposed to do because it is way louder to the fish and stresses them out. If so, am I stressing him out? I just picture him in there banging on the ceiling like an old man with a broom stick telling his upstairs neighbors to quiet down.