In my head, this is about the size of the baby in my belly. One irrational fear I've come up with is that he's out of room. From the way he stretches me, I keep thinking he must be. Doctor says I'm still measuring fine, but I'm convinced I'm genetically gifted: not only was Casey huge, but my dad and my uncles were all pretty large, too.
Not to mention that these days, I look like this:
We may have to go to belly-only shots, because in this picture I just look big and tired, two adjectives which, while very accurately describing how I've been feeling this week, aren't exactly becoming photographically.
Note to everyone: when you see a giant pregnant lady, please make no comments about how she looks like she's ready to pop, and definitely don't ask if she's carrying twins. Yes, I'm huge. But your shoes are ugly and your hair looks awful today, so we're square. Hah.
Somewhere between longing for a squishy place to lay pretty much 24/7 and trying not to make beached whale noises while attempting to heft my huge out of said squishy place, I decided that I may not be so good at being pregnant this time around, even though I love it.
I don't recall feeling that pregnant with Leah. It may have resulted from the fact that, last time, when I was done, I got to be done. I didn't still have to chase/care for/be patient with a two year old and all that implies.
Now we're back to the world of "thingies" and "whatdoyoucallits." My words are the first to go, followed quickly by the onset of "have you seen my..." syndrome. Whatever anyone tells you, pregnancy brain is a real thing. In fact... wait... what was I saying???
I'm also much more eager to meet him this time around. I'm trying so hard to enjoy this moment, because a) I kinda super, duper wanted him in there to begin with, and b) I know how much I'll miss having him in there once he's on the outside.
But darned if I'm not excited. Maybe more excited this time than last, because I know exactly how incredible it is to hold him in my arms instead of my belly. To smell that tiny head and stare into those eyes. To know that he is safe, healthy and happy.
To let those other two special people in my life enjoy him just as much as I have.
8 weeks - or less. We love you, Baby Boy!