**Disclaimer: Sorry, I'm short on the pictures this time. We went to Arizona last weekend, and I have lots of pictures of everyone else, but you know how it is when you're the one behind the camera . . . not so many pictures of you get taken.
Someone asked how the baby was doing the other day. (Who am I kidding? I get this questions multiple times, daily). He's doing great. Per the doctor, we're right on track. He's just the right size. He's in the right position. Seven weeks to go until our due date. (Which means just over 3 weeks of work left . . . not that I'm counting).
My only complaint: no one told my that third trimester fatigue is not entirely unlike first trimester fatigue (read: I could fall asleep at a moment's notice unless it is the appointed hour for my body to fall asleep, at which point I'm bound to stay up, restless all night - which, again, may have something to do with the fatigue).
I tell you what, though, in the past two weeks, I feel like I've been watching my body change at an unprecedented rate. Seriously, it's like watching those nature shows where the plant goes from seedling to fruit-bearing in a matter of minutes instead of a matter of weeks. Our little guy is taking off. I feel like I can literally see the inches adding onto my middle. And I've taken to itching incessantly. I suppose those two things go hand in hand.
So, we're still waiting and watching in wonder as the miracle of life continues to unfold. I'm grateful for a patient husband who puts up with my pregnant irrationalities ("yes, we need to go to the store and get baby socks TONIGHT. We can't bring home our baby with bare feet!"), and the unsolicited waterworks. I wish I wasn't like that, but I am.