Twenty six - woaaah, TWENTY SEVEN weeks pregnant, today. That's almost 7 months. That's a viable baby. A viable 2 pound baby, but a few weeks in the NICU could do wonders for that. Holy moly.
I weight something around 165 lbs. Still not sure where I started, but it appears I've put on about 20 lbs, give or take 3. (mostly take)
Quit measuring my belly, because it's begun speaking for itself.
Quit measuring my big momma pillows, because they've got a mind of their own, too.
Feeling movement about a billion times a day, which is beautiful and wonderful and not painful or intrusive at all.
Maternity clothes purchased... countless. But tickled pink with every single item. Motherhood Maternity really is a decent little shop. Got to break out the tank top today, aye carumba.
Temperature outside: 75 (yay!)
Internal temperature: rising. Saby has begun to notice that I'm wandering around in my skivvies while he's wrapped up in a blanket. I'm not sweating or noticing anything much, besides a beautiful absence of that cold feeling in my feet. I will take it!
Bathing suits: 2, at a time. I have one big suit I bought on clearance, thinking it could be faux maternity... no such case, it's just too big. My regular swim suit is too tight. I thus wear the loose one over top of the tight one, and pretend I'm training for Sectionals and need more drag. (hello, 1996)
Maternity Bathing Suits: ZERO. Although I have my eye on two at the store. Beetches don't make the bottoms big enough... am wondering if I could be fired for mixing and matching a large bottom with a medium top. Will screw up inventory and make hell for manager, who I love. Not worth it. Will just swim bottomless.
(Just Kidding)
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