This week our lucky baby is the size of my fist (also the size of my heart, then, right?) and weighs about an ounce. There haven't been any new major developments, except the neck is a little longer (if the kid takes after my sister and me, it will have a ridiculously long neck) and the ears have moved from the neck to the sides of the head. Sure am glad about that.
In the past few weeks, I have been feeling considerably better. The constant low-level nausea seems to have subsided (I was actually pretty lucky; while I felt sick all the time, I never actually threw up...) unless I go too long without eating. In which case I end up curled up in a ball nibbling on toast. I am no longer taking a nap everyday, though I am still glad to not have to work quite yet. I will definitely be looking at temp work in the new year, but for the next two weeks, I am going to milk being barefoot and pregnant at home.
Its humorous to me that the most common reaction to our pregnancy news (at least when its delivered by Morgan) is disbelief. Morgan told our friend Christine over instant message; she immediately demanded to talk to me and informed me that it was a cruel joke. Um, no joke, hon. Similarly, Morgan told a couple of his former co-workers when we were at the Arhoolie holiday party last night. The shared reaction was to laugh, and then look uncertainly at me and my belly - I'm not really showing yet so there wasn't much information to be gathered there. I'm still not sure Jonathan believed us, but then we did tell him mid-banjo jam on our way out the door (Arhoolie parties are strange things).