We made it through another week, another ultrasound, another set of fears, and another round of euphoria that is pregnancy.
23 weeks to me means 1 week to viability.
It means anxiety and loss of sleep when baby isn’t kicking as often. A LOT. As in, why isn’t she moving right now? Literally, as I am typing this. She should be moving!
It means a whole month before my next ultrasound since everything is looking good in there right now. Praises!
It means forgetfulness:
Such as driving to pre-natal yoga on MLK day only to realize that there is no class since it is MLK day.
Or . . .Walking into a folded caution sign downtown. You know, the ones placed over manholes and such to warn people to not walk there. Ya, walking into it and making a big noise, and drawing blood from your foot. In the middle of downtown. On a Sunday. Right after lunch. mmm hmmm. Awesome.
It means getting creative with clothes because I am sort of tired of my wintry maternity gear. Especially since it hasn’t gone below 60 degrees in a few weeks. This means buying comfy fabric to make skirts. Skirts that will hopefully look good and fit. Skirts that I will share with you if they look good and fit and if I remember that when a pattern says to measure the widest part of your hips, I should include my posterior.
It means your best friend visits and feels your little one move for the first time. It means that the two of you are so busy gushing about baby rooms and diaper bags that you forget to take a single picture of your time together! Not a single picture I tell you! However, I can show you the picture of my diaper bag! EEEK! love. swoon. insert generic blogging reactions. I die.
It means more spray paint and plans for baby room and pinning projects for little baby feet and little baby heads.
It means I am one week closer to wrapping my arms around a miracle, God’s miracle, our miracle.
Amen and Amen.