I know what you’re thinking: My, but it’s been a long while since we’ve been updated on Keely’s pregnancy! How is she? Is she gigantic? Do they still really not know what they’re having?
Apologies. Okay-ish. Quite gigantic. And nope, gender-surprise-tastic!
Yep, we’re gonna get BIGGER!
As of this very moment in time, I’m 33 weeks along. And since I’m going UNDER THE KNIFE at exactly 39 weeks, that leaves 6 more weeks of prenatal bliss. And don’t get me wrong, there are parts that are blissful: feeling the baby move is really fun. (Attn: My Kid- I said move, not karate chop a rib at 2:3oam, setting off a chain reaction of Braxton Hicks contractions, needing to pee every five minutes for the next hour, and an unquenchable craving for things not currently residing in our kitchen.) Nesting is simply awesome. (I’m one of the best nesters around, pregnant or not.) And having P.J. make midnight runs for things like Reubens and coconut sundaes is something I’ll surely miss. (Although, let’s be honest. It doesn’t take much more than a quiet “Do you feel like milkshakes” to have him seeking out the car keys.)
But this pregnancy has also been really, really weird. And really, really intense. I’ve been sick as a dog for half of it, and flattened on my face for the other portion. I’m not sure how much of that is chasing around two smallish biggies whilst with child and how much of it is the fact that I have used up my baby-making internal organs like so many rolled and squeezed-up tubes of toothpaste.
That said, I can’t wait to meet my Roo, my last little joey.
Based on ultrasound pics, I can already tell that he or she has his biggest sister’s mouth (and, come on, his/her DAD’S)…and based on said middle of the night acrobatics, his or her other sister’s penchant for backflips and physical hijinks. (Send help. And/or more babyproofing gear.)
I can also already tell that the sheer, living-in-our-houseitude of this baby will make me so, so very happy.
And not just because I will not be carrying samesuch baby directly on my bladder/hipbone/spine/lung/rib cage (depending on time of day).
But maybe that will be a small part of it.
Which is currently the only small part of me.
I blame the Reubens and milkshakes.
And thusly P.J.
Sorry, P.J.
Speak Your Mind