Weight Gain: 40 lbs. Correct. That's four-zero. As in when you take 10 -- coincidently the number that I've been fighting off gaining for, oh, the last 8 years or so -- and then you multiply it by 4.
Milestones this Week: You may have already picked up on this vibe, but the weight gain is really starting to freak me out. Especially since this week I had an ultrasound and a prenatal appointment, both of which combined confirmed that I am not further along than 30 weeks and my chicken is not bigger than she should be. In fact, as my doctor put it, she is "perfectly average." He meant that to be extremely reassuring. She falls smack dab in the middle of where a baby should be at week 30 in terms of development, growth and weight. That means it's not her that's big, it's just me. Figures. In other news, I have had somewhat of an epiphany this week that balances out the scales (no pun intended) on this issue just a bit.
I am creating, housing and protecting a tiny human being. No really! That's happening.
But wait, that's not all. I'm in love with her. Sometimes I love her so much that it's all I can do to hold my shit together. And everyday I'm getting to know her better. I can feel her bum under my hand and when she's restless I rub her back until she stretches lazily and settles in. I think she loves having her back rubbed just as much as me.
I have created a safe, warm place for her to grow and as much as I can complain about the difficulties of being pregnant, some days I wish that I could keep her in me forever. Because in there she's safe. I know that there are a lot of people waiting to meet her, all of them already pledging to keep her happy and safe, and I'm glad because it does take a village. But for now that job is all mine and I know that I'm doing it well. I know that I'm doing all that I can to prepare her for the shock that will be life outside of me. And once she is out, I will always continue to do what I can, but I'll never be able to protect her as well as I am right now.
This week the counting has suddenly changed from counting up, to counting down. Instead of saying, "I'm 30 weeks along," I find myself saying, "Just 10 more weeks to go." 10 little weeks and my girl will be here. I hope that she's going to enjoy these last weeks inside of me as much as I'm going to try to enjoy having her in there. Because just as much as I can't wait to hold her in my arms, I'll miss her terribly in my belly.
Speaking of belly, here's some more proof.