So, I'm in my last-mester of pregnancy. And I'm about to be really real up in this blog so, if you don't want to hear about the truths of pregnancy- just click away.
Swiss Army Knife. I'm pretty sure this little person has somehow fashioned a Swiss Army Knife out of amniotic fluid and is using it to dig its way through my right lowest rib. Remember that "Rescue Me" scene in Paul Shore's epic In the Army Now. (Don't pretend like you haven't seen it.) Yep, it's just like that. Also, occasionally the babe uses it to shove into one of my ovaries just to remind me that we are done having kids. Take that tiny eggs!
Ug sauce. I am feeling so incredibly ugly. I swear in the last 6 months I have aged 15 years. I used to be able to get away with chap stick and bronzer. Now if I don't get ready in the morning I look like this: click here. Not cool.
Neepers. When Dave and I first got married we had a dog named Barkley. He was a pug. He was unmanageable and he snorted and he was wall eyed. I loved him. I have some new pets that are just as free spirited and they are my sitting atop my belly. They are my boobs. And they are everywhere.
Peek-a-boo. I'm big and getting bigger. I recently got to the point where I can't see past my belly. As far as I know, my body goes- head, boobs, top of belly, toes. And that's all. I am not comfortable with not knowing how everything is holding up on the parts I can't see...
Pee-a-boo. ...Infact, if I didn't have to pee every hour I may have forgotten that I still have specials down there. My favorite is when I pee, wash my hands, the baby moves, and I am back on the toilet. And when I say my favorite- I mean the opposite of that. Speaking of which, if you'll excuse me for a sec...
Serious Condition. I am not lying in the least little bit when I say that I am pretty sure my baby has seizures. This kid is already practicing his krumping, no doubt, but at least 3 times a day it also shakes and spazzes uncontrollably like it's had too much coffee. It makes me nervous.
Harold and the Purple Crayon. When we got it's 1/2 way ultrasound and saw it's profile- he looked exactly like this. I truly believe the ultrasounds are telling. Miles did something hilarious during his and he is honestly the funniest kid I know. Faye's picture looked exactly like my sister, Celeste, and she still does. Newbie's profile screams Harold. And I can't wait.
My heart on my sleeve. I would like to think I would be a pretty good actress if given the opportunity, but I might be wrong. Lately people have been saying things like, "Are you okay?" "You seem a little down," and "Everything alright?" I have been a little sick lately, but I didn't know that I was also depressed until people kept telling me. So, someone tell me how happy I am. Right now and I mean it!
Professor Actual Factual. The truth is, as much as I love complaining about the woes of pregnancy- I am actually really excited to have this baby. And so are my kids.
Faye says: If it's a girl I am going to name it Tiger. And if it's a boy I'm going to name it Tiger.
Miles will leave little pictures of hearts or submarines for me and the baby all over the house. Sometimes the baby will get a special hug and kiss from one of the kids and every once in a while I can get Dave to feel the baby during one of it's dance sessions.
Dave says: Yep. There's a baby in there.
I can't wait to meet her. I can't wait to hold him in my arms. I can't wait to see her little tiny hand wrap around one of my fingers. I can't wait to watch him stretch his little arms out and not be able to reach the top of his head. I can't wait to see how Faye will love on him and how Miles will protect her. I can't wait to watch Dave look at her with love in his eyes.
I can't wait to meet you, little one. Come soon, but not too soon- keep working on those ribs until D-day.