We’ve hit some big milestones over here this week. Michael turned 30, and I’ve gained an even 30 pounds. We celebrated with birthday cake, and I’ll be making some double peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies today because, well, I want to.

Weight. Thirty pounds. In the beginning of the pregnancy the idea of gaining that much weight so quickly scared the crap out of me. I knew it was necessary, of course, for the health of the baby to put on weight, but 30 just seemed like a scary number. Now that I’ve reached it, it’s really not a big deal.

I’ve received some really nice body compliments during the pregnancy, which always makes you feel better, and for the most part, I am carrying mostly everything in my belly. (And, well,  yeah. My face. And my arms. But mostly belly!) It’s just sort of a fact of the matter now, you know? Every week I get on the scale there WILL be an increase of a pound or so. It’s just the way things work. Yes, some days I do feel like a whale, especially when yet another maternity shirt no longer covers my stomach all the way to the bottom. But then This Little Baby shoves his butt in the air and I can cup it, literally!, with my hand and all is well.

Emotions. I’ve reached the point where I’m almost ready for this pregnancy to be over. I have truly enjoyed being pregnant, but I just want to meet him already. The doctors have told me that at 38 weeks, they’re basically cooked and their lungs are functioning properly, so if he were to come two weeks early, hurrah!

Except, what if he’s like his mama and wants to evacuate THREE weeks early? As in, THREE WEEKS FROM NOW. It’s true that most first pregnancies tend to go full term, if not a little late, but that didn’t stop me from breaking my mom’s water many, many days before my expected arrival.

There’s something about seeing the words “three weeks” in front of me that kind of puts me on edge. Of course, six weeks isn’t really that much longer, but it is longer than three weeks. Double, even! (Your math lesson for the day. Don’t you feel smarter? I know I do.)

If he were to come early, it would be fine. We would be over the moon. But at the same time, I’m hoping he’s more like his father — 10 minutes late for everything — so that we can enjoy this last chunk of time just the two of us, preparing his nursery, washing his tiny clothes and looking forward to his birth.

Nursery progress. Michael started painting, but he’s been doing it around work so it’s little by little. The plan is to have everything said and done by the first weekend in June, when my mom will be arriving with baby’s dresser and I can finally put all those tiny onesies away. The beginning of June will also include the installation of the car seat, and the packing of my hospital bag. Early, yes, but after countless tales from friends warning me they weren’t ready, I figure it can’t hurt to pack the essentials.

When the room is done I’ll post pictures!

Symptoms. Things have been overall pretty normal as far as pregnancy goes, but one weird new one popped up early this week. The body makes a hormone called Relaxin which allows your joints and ligaments to loosen and stretch, opening your hip bones and making room for your growing baby.

Relaxin also causes you to stand up from sitting on the couch, only to find your leg is not in your socket, and therefore making you crumple to the floor in front of your perplexed husband. It didn’t hurt and I didn’t have the sensation of needed to pop the leg back in the socket, but it was WEIRD. My friend told me that happened during her pregnancy too, so I knew what it was, but still. SUCH an odd feeling. I make sure everything is where it should be now when I stand up!

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