So last week, when I finally slowed myself down enough to notice that this life inside of me was, in fact, KICKING me and turning somersaults inside my belly like a mini Cirque du Soleil acrobat, I was a wee bit surprised. Hey! I'm pregnant! Whee! I'm going to have another baby!
Here's my newest son in his Lucha Libre mask:
And a blob that I was told is his footprint:
Also? Further proof that I am turning my house into a testoster-home:
No belly shots yet, partly because I don't like taking pictures of myself and partly because there really isn't a belly to shoot, so to speak. I didn't exactly start out this pregnancy as a skinny mini - in fact, I weighed more than I have in a long, long time, and as a result, I came into this looking rather large around the middle. But, like last time, I've lost weight instead of gained weight as the weeks have progressed, thanks to some wild nausea, exhaustion, and an intolerance to a lot of the (fattening) foods I normally love. But, I'm still quite overweight. And even though my face is thinning out, I still don't look pregnant thanks to the existing padding and a tendency to carry my children very high, right underneath the, er, girls.
So, I'm pretty sure everyone's convinced that I am not actually pregnant, but instead have some wild mental illness where I make up phantom pregnancies. Next thing you know, I'll be standing at hospital triage, rocking a stuffed baby doll back and forth and drooling into a cup.
But seriously.
We are so excited to meet this baby, no matter what the shape of my body or the state of life outside of the crib. Due date is March 21, though I'm somehow doubting I'll make it that far since Aidan came a couple weeks early. No, we have no names picked out yet, and yes, we are thrilled that we are having another boy, though I did have someone recently try to "console" me that I wasn't having a girl. Maybe I should console them.
Can't wait to meet you, baby boy. Love you.
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