Mostly however, time has flown. I still feel like I'm "barely" pregnant. I still feel like I have no idea what pregnancy even is. And the closer I come to my due date, the more unprepared I feel. Don't even get me started on putting together a baby registry. It's like someone said to me: "Make a list of what you need to build this AC unit" when I've never built an AC unit before. I get the basic concept of an air conditioner and how it works, but that doesn't make me prepared to list the parts I'd need. Part of me just wants to say, buy me whatever you think I need! But that's scary, too.
I've felt the peanut moving and rolling and kicking and stretching for the past four weeks now, and the movements are just getting stronger and more intense every day. No one told me how weird this is. The impression I always got was "its pretty cool" and "it happens every now and then", not "your baby will kick you so hard you'll lose your balance" or "your baby will move so much you'll think something is wrong." I mean seriously baby, are you trying to get out? Where are you going?
Getting up from laying down is probably a hilarious sight, and it's also extremely uncomfortable. My back hurts 24/7, and while I'm not waddling yet I'm definitely doing more of a hobble than a walk these days.
My mom has taken to talking to my belly...like, a lot. She says things, then waits, and responds, and says more things. It doesn't matter that I am standing there, or sitting there, or trying to watch TV, or on my way out the door. I must stop for this ritual and wait.
I was supposed to meet my midwife two weeks ago, but had to reschedule. I'm sincerely hoping that I get to meet her tomorrow.
My mom also purchased a dresser for extra space for baby stuff. She saw a bright yellow dresser for sale, and thankfully, she thought of me. For the first 24 hours I couldn't decide if I thought it was hideous or wonderful, but the longer it's burned the color out of my retinas, the more I've fall in love with it.
It is currently empty save two cloth diapers (thanks Vicki!), a pair of shoes my mom couldn't pass up, and a few white onesies.
I *finally* LOOK pregnant. I can't tell you how tired I was of just looking fat. It's pretty clear now, though, although I keep getting "you don't look six months pregnant" which can be both flattering and annoying. Every pregnancy is different, or so I'm told, so it's hard to say what I should or shouldn't look like. And of course it's not that I desire to look like I'm carrying a beach ball or anything, but at least I don't feel it's necessary to squint at me anymore and wonder if I just ate a lot of pasta the night before or if I'm with child.