Interestingly, if you Google “33 weeks pregnant” and check out the websites associated with the usual suspects (whattoexpect.com, babycenter.com, etc.) you’ll get very different information. For example, when I was reporting that Baby Pablo was 18 inches long, it turns out that several other websites only had him at 16 inches long. Maybe some of the websites had him take off his shoes first?
[Ed. note: Hey, by the way, doubters… no really, we DON’T KNOW WHAT WE ARE NAMING HIM YET. Pablo Ozymandias is just the not-really-his-name of the week or whatever. We are not secretly hoarding the knowledge of what his name is just because we like to make you crazy. And while we do have an unstable short list, we’re keeping it to ourselves for now so that we don’t have anyone’s opinions or comments in our heads when it comes time to decide. When we finally figure out what’s going on the birth certificate, we will let the appropriate people know… honest…]
Anyway… Today, I am seven weeks away (give or take) from having to formally make that decision. I’ve reached a point where no one doubts that I am pregnant anymore unless I’m wearing a really baggy sweatshirt, and where people make exclamations about how cute/pregnant/bellylicious I’m looking. I haven’t yet reached a point where strangers are rubbing my belly for good luck, although that may just be because I’m really never alone in public these days. Heck, I’m rarely in public anymore… I go to work, go home, collapse, wake up, and go back to work…
I’m terrifically exhausted, which may be partially because I’m still regaining strength after that nasty cold. The ear pressure issue has gone away after nightly doses of children’s Benadryl — I learned my lesson about taking it in daytime — but I’ve still got quite a bit of nasal drainage to deal with. I’m sleeping pretty well, though, which is nice. I’ve also developed the ability to fall deeply asleep almost immediately during the day and enter REM sleep before the end of a thirty-minute nap, which seems fairly impressive to me. One does not expect to dream during a cat nap.
I have a difficult relationship with food right now. Food has, in general, started to sound good again, but I can’t eat very much of it at a time, and anything the least bit strong-tasting (whether spicy or some other quality) runs the risk of giving me massive heartburn/indigestion. Most foods, especially anything sweet, leave a nasty sour taste in my mouth that lingers for a long time.
Pablo hypothetically weighs over four pounds now, and is some number of inches long that no one can agree upon. One website says he’s a pineapple but I think they might just be talking about his hairstyle, if he has his father’s genes. I’m told that at this point in the game, he’s gaining about half a pound of weight and an inch of length every week.
Here is a picture of him looking like he is listening to some groovy tunes, maybe doing a little air guitar:
Pablo is an active little guy, although he’s moved from kicks and punches to rolls, squirms, and stretches. It’s extremely fascinating to lie back with my shirt pulled up and watch my stomach billow and convulse; the sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced or imagined. I’m not going to say that I don’t occasionally find it a little overwhelming, even a little wearying — but overall, it’s still a lovely, reassuring feeling.
Except when he has hiccups. Then it’s just really annoying. Like right now. Seriously. Arrrrrrrrrggghhhhh….
Tonight, and next Wednesday, we have a natural childbirth class that I’m hoping is worthwhile. Tomorrow, we have a doctor’s appointment in which they’ll be doing an ultrasound (for positioning, I’m guessing?) and then I start on the two-week rotation. Next Friday, I have a baby shower (!) and I even have something cute to wear (!!) that I got really inexpensively (!!!).
Yikes. Tonight I have a class. That probably means I should stop blogging, finish entering these grades, and go home, huh. Oops.
Okay… talk atcha later…