9 weeks left, theoretically, until our new son makes his entrance.
I hear from both men and women, "9 weeks? You're almost done!"
From the men I simply roll my eyes because I know they say this completely oblivious to what the last 9 weeks (or any weeks) of pregnancy feels like.
From the women, mostly mothers themselves, I know they are trying to be positive and cheery because they DO know what those last weeks can feel like.
They usually follow the statement up with something like, "...but they are considered full term by 36 weeks right? and even at 32 weeks they are usually good to be born with little complications, right?"
Hey! Now I only have 2- 9 weeks to go. It's that glimmer of an early, but perfectly safe and healthy delivery that keeps us all going at the end.
I still love being pregnant. It's an incredible honor and there is nothing I would trade for the feeling of a little person growing and moving in my belly. There is also something awesome about having this huge, commanding belly and loving it instead of feeling self conscious about it. I can't think of another time in my life when I've actually felt more beautiful and confident completely naked rather than clothed. Still, I can feel my fortress of bliss being slowly chipped away by a multitude of villains.
the scale- I know gaining weight during pregnancy is required and healthy, but my irrational mind still manages to make me feel lousy every time I have to take that step up onto the deviously accurate physician's scale... the fact that you have to do it more frequently the closer to term you are (and fatter you feel) is simply wrong.
cereal- it's not just for breakfast anymore. it is also a chaser to almost any meal or snack. why? i have no idea. it just is. am I right?
shoes- one serious perk to summer pregnancy has to be flip flops and light airy dresses. Since I live in in New England I am battling with jeans, sweaters, seriously flawed maternity jackets (thanks a bunch, the Gap) and worst of all, shoes!!! Lace up snow boots and sneakers. Zip up boots. They are all evil when there is a bowling ball of elbows and knees fighting you when you try to bend over to get them on your feet.
February- The most wicked of them all. If February were a human we would not be friends. It's colder than the previous months and filled with snow and sleet and rain... sometimes all in the same day. February, I hate, hate, hate you. I was pregnant with my first son mostly through summer and the heat never bothered me much (must be living in Texas for so many years before moving to New England) but this winter is killing me.
I was fine until February came. Now I loathe every snowflake because it means boots and shoveling. Both very unappealing to a big, pregnant mama with 9 weeks to go.