33 weeks and Baby Two is the size of a
(I mean, just a rough estimate.)
Feeling pretty good, considering I’m sharing my body with another human who is just a few short weeks away from greeting the outside world. Can you believe it?! I can, but I can’t. Keep cooking, little man, but maybe consider some kind of a less-is-more approach when it comes to packing on the pounds. This stomach can only stretch so far.
Nesting like crazy, both at home and at school. My long-term sub is going to think I’m an obsessive-compulsive psychopath (which is only about half-true, I think).
Wearing maxi skirts/dresses as much as possible for the remainder of this pregnancy because a) I’m down to just four pairs of pants that semi-fit and b) sweatpants are not work-appropriate.
Braxton-Hicks-ing whenever I over-exert myself. You know, like by carrying laundry downstairs.
Reeling from hip/pelvic/everything pain at night. Really, any part of my body involved in changing positions hurts, and I wake up walking like I’m 95 years old. By all accounts, this is “totally normal” (especially with second, third, etc. babies) but that doesn’t make it any more okay.
Missing clothes that fit, being able to roll over in bed, Angry Orchard, and the days when shaving wasn’t an acrobatic feat.
Looking forward to seeing this not-so-little nugget at our 36 week appointment! We’ll be checking on his weight to decide if he’ll be making his debut the old fashioned way, or via an alternate exit. The whole thing makes me anxious but I’mnotgoingtofreakout. Yet.
33 down, 7 to go! 🙂