Dear @%^! Baby,
Well. Little Guy. As of today, you and I have made it to the halfway mark without significant damage to each other. We deserve ice cream! And presents! And accolades!
I really cannot believe this crazy thing is at the 20 week mark. I still forget I’m pregnant most of the time, I’m not the size of a U-Haul yet and I can still rock my non-maternity clothes 71% of the time (with a little assistance, at least). I did, though, discover the joys of maternity pants this week and their kick-ass elastic waists, so my normal clothes, while they fit, are going to be taking a back seat to that awesome.
Let’s fill everyone else in on your progress and how you’re messing with my body, shall we?
Fruit Salad: According to the National Fruit and Fetus Comparison Board, you are roughly the size of a cantaloupe. That’s actually pretty sizable, considering you’re still in semi-hiding. Keep growing into bigger fruits, champ.
Flavor Enhancers: You have taste buds now. Hope you like cheese, spicy stuff, Jimmy Johns, chocolate protein shakes, Cherry Coke and strawberry smoothies.
Growing Pains: I have been having a little back pain, enough that I have to ask myself if I’ve had any Hot Pockets recently. The headaches only come on if I leave out the morning coffee. So I just don’t leave out my morning coffee. The heartburn, well, I can see why people would complain about this, but I’ve had old man heartburn since college. Keep the Tums on the nightstand and we’re good to go.
Sleep is for the Awesome: Sleep is not (yet) an issue. I’ve been sleeping better than ever, which is sort of awesome because I am usually a terrible sleeper. It used to take me forever to fall asleep (once asleep I am out like Rip van Winkle. Not to be confused with Robert van Winkle) but now I fall asleep before the episode of American Dad is over.
The Weight is On: Well, maybe not “on”. Total poundage for this whole thing so far is only about 5 lbs. Which is low, but nothing alarmingly low. I also don’t know HOW it’s only that much. I just got further orders to “indulge”. I can handle that.
The Graze Method: Since you’re all nestled up and snuggling with my internal organs, I was informed that you’re basically giving me a gastric bypass and squashing my stomach. So I can only eat a little bit at a time. And eat often. So somehow, now all I do is eat.
5, 6, 7, 8: Ever since Superbowl Sunday, I can feel your wicked dance moves more frequently. Mostly at night when I’m not focused on much else. But you’re definitely pop lockin’ up a storm and you let me know when I’m not in a position you like. Bossy little fetus.
Alright, I take shitty pictures of myself and there is no good spot in the house to do it. I either need to figure out the timer setting on my other camera or someone needs to come hang out with me once a week. THIS IS IMPORTANT, PEOPLE. These are memories. MEMORIES, DAMMIT.
Anyway. Halfway done, halfway to go! Keep up the good work, little fella, I guess? Good game?