Well, here I am, barefoot and pregnant. End of post.
Just kidding! It's been a couple of weeks since I did a dedicated post on growing a person inside my belly, so settle in for some chit-chat about the my last few weeks.
It's not as glamorous as I thought it would be: there are stretch marks on my tummy, my bellybutton is a mostly-outie at this point, I can't sleep more than 3 hours at a time due to the bladder situation at night, and only elastic and drawstring bottoms fit.
These hormones are starting to kick in like crazy: lots of tears at the season 2 premiere of The West Wing, when I locked myself out of our house yesterday for 1.5 hours without having eaten lunch beforehand, and even when the stroller we registered for arrived today from my dad (first registry gift and it's awesome! Thanks, Dad and Karen!).
Running is getting harder, the churro sits on my sciatic nerve sometimes, and I stupidly find myself holding in my belly when shaving my legs, as if it will help me see my ankles better. Note to self: you can't suck in a baby.
We went bowling a few weeks ago and, on my first frame, in front of some people I knew and some I had met a 5 minutes before, I released the ball and fell right onto my hands and knees because my center of gravity is just not what it used to be. (I fouled that frame, but did go on to win.)
HOWEVER, I cannot get over how incredible it is to have a doctor's appointment and hear our son's heartbeat in stereo. JP and I fall asleep with our hands on my belly so we can feel him kicking us and squirming around. I look at my husband when he's folding up swaddling blankets and smiling because the churro is giving him internal high-fives, and cannot wait to see him as a father to someone we created together. I can't get over that this is all happening inside of me. What a crazy time. 15 weeks to go...