Nice eh? And guess what? It's only going to get BIGGER. Like 10 more centimeters bigger. I am pretty pleased that my butt hasn't exploded and my arms still look relatively skinny. I'll take what I can.
This pose makes me look stupid. I know I've been doing it since the beginning because it shows off the belly growth and makes comparisons easy to see, but I feel stupid when I do it, and the resulting pictures look stupid. I tried cupping my hand under the belly but that just looked a little too precious, if you know what I mean. Like I was "holding" my baby. Gah. Ick. So I end up in this stupid pose while Tim tries to hold the camera steady and keep my head out of the frame. Lame-o.
We're 30 weeks along, kids. That means come Monday we are in single digits. 9 weeks to go (approximately). It's exciting to be on this end of the pregnancy...but also extremely terrifying because in 9 SHORT weeks we could be at the hospital and then coming home with a BABY. Like a real, live, breathing BABY. One that depends on us for its life. Spooky. You'll totally hold my hand and stroke my hair while I breathe into a paperbag, right? Pretty please? With a cherry on top? Maybe some whipped cream even?
So it's strange to have all these conflicting emotions about the end of the pregnancy and the beginning of parenthood. I cannot wait to meet this little guy. Seriously. Thoughts of what he looks like, what his tiny personality will be like, get me through the day. But then the images of labor and delivery weasel their way into my daydreams and I get scared. Back and forth I go, everyday, swinging between elated joy and terror. When he's born, just tell me he's the cutest baby in the entire world. That will make it all worth it. Lie to me if you have to.
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