22 Weeks.

At 22 weeks, the average baby is about 11 inches - just one inch less than that ruler up there. Since I expect our child to be above average in all ways, I'm just going with the ruler as a demonstration of how long the bean is this week. Yikes.

By now, our boy's lips, eyelids, eyebrows, and tooth buds under his gums have all formed. His eyes have formed as well, but the irises still lack pigment. Brown like dad or blue like mom? Or, possibly green, if he takes after his aunt and great uncle? Its kind of cool to think about. Allegedly, he has hair growing on his head too. It will be interesting to see which parent he takes after, since I think Morgan was born with a full head of hair, and I was bald for the first year of my life. According to old wives' tales (and a South American study of some variety), there is a link between how much heartburn mom has during pregnancy and the amount of hair the baby is born with. Since I've had minimal heartburn, does that mean the froglet is bald? Wonder if my mom had heartburn?

All my books tell me I'm in the happy, easy part of pregnancy, and I can't disagree. I'm not too tired, still moving around without too much trouble. I'm watching the scar from where I used to have a navel ring start to stretch out - oops. I'm disappointed that the super strong fingernails I had in the first trimester have vanished - now they're back to breaking and peeling. Oh well. I don't seem to have the thicker, faster growing hair that people talk about either - though it might be falling out slightly less than usual. My hairdresser assures me that this is temporary and after the baby is born, I'll lose all the extra hair. Great. I guess that's when I sign up for the mommy haircut? No, not really.

Partner

Last night was partner night at my prenatal yoga class. The instructor invited participants to bring their partner, spouse, whathaveyou. Morgan was a very good sport about twisting himself into ridiculous positions and sitting crosslegged for too long whilst chanting, despite his poor spasming back. He also tolerated the little lecture on how important it is to support me; maybe some other partners, spouses, whathaveyous need to be lectured by a complete stranger on these things (as might be deduced by the fact that out of ten people in my class, only five partners showed up), but Morgan doesn't. He's been amazing these last five months. Even if he does laugh at me when I make goofy noises getting in and out of the car. Even I have to admit its funny.

We also got to sit through a video of several water births; I kind of knew about this part, but didn't share with Morgan. That might have been a little mean. It was pretty amazing, and confirmed my thought that I want to aim for a natural birth. Maybe not in a tub though, given my feelings about bathtubs... But the coolest part? Morgan leaned over mid-video and whispered, "I'm beginning to think marathon training is the best thing you ever could have done to prepare for this."

guess I really am pregnant...

After five months of being mostly healthy, with one or two exceptions (nachos at the Englander?), tonight I had a true pregnancy dinner. Jalapeno poppers, followed by pepperoni pizza. The floglet doesn't seem to mind spicy food or grease too much.

Tomorrow I'll be healthy again.

Week 21

When I run marathons, I consider the second half to be negative miles. After mile thirteen, I keep reminding myself that I'm just repeating or undoing what I've already done. I got this from my friend Mardie, and I think the logic stems from the long out and back courses we do during training. We would turn around at the halfway point, and after that, each mile would be something we'd already done.

This feels completely different.

I had a remarkably sappy moment today. Morgan and I actually cleaned the house this afternoon(!). After spending 20 minutes brushing the living room rugs with a dog brush to remove most of the pet hair (trust me, this is the best method we've found. It might explain why we only have two rugs in our entire house though...), I flopped onto my back on the floor to try and ease the back spasms. Morgan had music playing and I found myself singing along to Bridge Over Troubled Water while feeling the tiniest kicks bouncing just inside my bellybutton. And yeah, almost started crying.

So again, no huge developmental gains this week, just more growing growing growing. The froglet has started swallowing; he gets some of his nutrients this way, and its also a means to get his digestive system ready for real food after birth. He's also supposedly opening his eyes now - meaning his eyelids (and lashes) are formed now. The books and newsletters all indicate that I should be regularly feeling kicks etc now, and that the kicks might be felt from the outside. Since I'm barely feeling kicks, I'm a bit off from anyone feeling them on the outside. Soon.

What else? My hands and my feet have started swelling some. Last night, after having an exceptionally salty lunch and dinner, I woke up a couple time with tingly hands. Uncomfortable, but apparently normal, according to Dr. Google. We have no exciting upcoming doctor appointments, no more big tests. Just growing growing growing. That's plenty for now, I think.

Things that made me happy today.

Apple fritters for breakfast.

The quality of light on my drive home through the Oakland hills. It was raining and the sun was setting and cutting through under the clouds, making it bright and orange and surreal. It reminded me of the light during middle-of-the-afternoon thunderstorms in Florida.

Chloe's purr as she rolls around with a pink iridescent mouse in her mouth.

Salt and pepper prawns from Little Namking for dinner.

Pace barking at the rain.

The smell of rain and earth on our evening walk.

Tonight's fortune cookie fortune: "Your lucky number for the week is the number two." Because, as Morgan pointed out, there's two of me (in me?) right now. So my lucky number for the next 19 (or so) weeks is the number two.

Half Baked.

This post should have come on Saturday, but since this weekend was dedicated to unprecedented laziness and sloth, here it is on Tuesday. We're officially half way! Twenty weeks marks the halfway point of pregnancy (though as my doctor pointed out at my last appointment, while we know when the due date is, the baby when come whenever it pleases). Baby Frog is the length of a banana. Or a butternut squash. Yeah, I know. This is the last week that baby's estimated length is measured from "crown to rump" - next week, he'll be measured from head to toe. So don't freak out if baby grows a substantial amount next week. He's precocious and talented and all that, but really its just a quirk of prenatal estimates.

Sooner or later, I should get Morgan to take some pictures so that people can actually see me pregnant. I'm pushing out of the "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant" phase and into the, "yep, that's my belly" phase. I realized this afternoon that if I don't pay attention, I start walking like Charlie Chaplin. Not a good look.

I don't think I've mentioned it here before, but I have to take a second to mention how absolutely amazing Morgan is. Anyone who knows Pace knows how persnickety he is and how dedicated he is to me. It ends up being easier for me to do most Pace-related things simply because he prefers it coming from me. Morgan will take him out in the backyard, and Pace will simply stand there staring at him. But on Tuesday nights, my yoga night, Morgan has been feeding and walking Pace before I get home.* I cannot tell you what a relief it is to come home and not have to walk to the dog or administer his stinky food. Its a little thing, but I am ridiculously grateful. Thanks, sweetie.

* Of course, he's amazing for a dozen other reasons as well. This is just tonight's.

Mystery Solved!

Thanks, Randi!