Yes, I am nearly 22 weeks pregnant and well over the halfway mark. You can ask any pregnant lady, and she will tell you that 40 weeks is actually 2 weeks beyond 9 months. As that curly headed kid in our world history class in high school would have asked, "Do we get credit for that??"
I am very aware of the fact that I am not alone in my body any more. This morning George laughed at me when he rolled over in bed and I mumbled, "Hey, don't bump into us." I am now a "we," for sure. A few weeks ago at the library, I read Sophie a really lovely book called There's a House Inside my Mummy, in which a little boy relates his perception of having a pregnant mum and waiting to meet his new baby sibling. Our favourite part was when the boy wished mum's "house" had windows so that he could see what that baby was doing in there. I could definitely relate to that. Now that she has gotten bigger, I am constantly feeling her movements and wondering, "What are you doing in there, kid??"
Mostly it is fabulous to feel her moving, but sometimes she plays the bongos on my bladder or worse yet, moves farther southward and dances La Cucuracha. Yow! It was so bad the other night that I elevated my hips on a couple of pillows in hopes that she would drift northward with her fancy footwork, but the end result was only that I had managed to give myself a raging case of heartburn. Oh well, this is all part of it. Being pregnant is certainly a miraculous experience even the third time around.
Remind me of this in late August, please. :)
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