So there was a time in my life (er, pregnancy) where I only wanted to be showing. I whined about it; I fretted about it. Man, look at this tiny hint of a bump:
I remember abs!
And then J and I didn't take any photos for nine weeks, apparently. Because all of a sudden, we have a large baby swimming around in there:
And still it grows and mutates!
So no, I suppose I no longer worry about showing. Now, I worry about gaining too much weight. The life of a pregnant woman is fraught with worry and anxiety. Ah, the wondrous miracle of life.
No stretch marks yet, but we're still early. I have 17 more weeks to grow this kid. Save yourselves from the giant super-fetus!
I spent most of yesterday on the couch, fairly incapacitated with a head cold. As I lay on my side (and now that I can only lay on my side, all I want to do is lay on my back. Glorious back-laying!), I felt Ninja's kicks and wiggles. I feel Ninja movements fairly regularly now, which is so comforting: my tiny constant companion. Each time I feel a swift punch, I yell for J.
"Can you feel that?!?" I typically ask happily.
"No," J always replies, morosely.
"You must just have a very calming influence on the baby," I assure him daily.
It goes on like this, day after day, until finally, last night, the Ninj went and punched his dad. Hard.
"I felt it!"
It was a moment.
J was also able to feel more kicks at 4 AM, as I woke for the thousandth time and practiced my 3-point turns (lord, I miss the days when I could simply roll over in bed).
And so J finally gets to connect with Ninj, and it makes it that much more exciting. It also makes the discomfort (the side-sleeping, the peeing, the PIMPLES) bearable.
* Edited to add: There used to be line-spacing in this piece, but Blogger is angered when you attempt to incorporate photos. Boo.