At this point, you are a little over a foot long and OH MY GOODNESS, SO ADORABLE.
I know this because these days you spend a lot of time delivering solid blows to my innards. Those kicks? The ones where my entire belly is lopsided and a three square inch area looks strangely stretched out? The ones where I can discern the outline of a knee or an elbow for about two nanoseconds before I realize that I MUST PEE. AGAIN.? That is how I know you are OH MY GOODNESS, SO ADORABLE.
Adorable or not, however, you are welcome to stop kickboxing my bladder ANY TIME YOU WANT. Just sayin’.
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All in all, this whole arrangement wherein you are some sort of parasite that sucks nutrient from my body is actually pretty cool. I constantly find myself contorted into painful positions in the name of dislodging a hand or foot from my ribcage, but it always serves as a pleasant reminder that your gestation is going well. Thus far, I have always won the battle over my ribcage, presumably because you are embarrassed thinking about YOUR MOTHER wiggling around uncontrollably in public, but I am expecting this trend to come to an end any day now.
I figure this is practice for when you are a teenager. I’m going to lose a lot of battles the minute you discover that I don’t have the energy to yell through slammed doors, so I might as well acclimate to being “Mom, that total dumbass loser” now.
The only thing I have left to say about the past few weeks with you is this: feeling you jerk around sporadically has provided me with a newfound sense of pride and delight in my body. Sure, your father donated some sperm to the cause, and sure, you’re the one doing all the work on a cellular level, but JUST LOOK AT WHAT I CREATED. My body is made to nurture you, to give you what you need so that you may flourish, and this never ceases to amaze me. I cannot wait to look over every centimeter of you, to hold you in my arms, to know the full extent of my body’s capacity. And, of course, I cannot wait to meet you and spend years getting to know you. If nothing else, there will always be that you were very well-loved all along.
Momma (oh, and Daddy, too).
P.S. Your father has also donated an awful lot of time to preparing the house for your arrival. I’ll go ahead and thank him for you by eating those delicious chocolate eggs he bought the other day. He couldn’t possibly have wanted those for himself…right?