Today marks week 20. Wow. I mean, wow. 5 months down, 5 to go. Baby is now the size of a butternut squash (which I happened to eat twice this week in the form of a delicious homemade soup). Or possibly a banana. These two are quite different, if you ask me. But clearly no one did. Jerks.
In other exciting news, this baby is kicking like crazy! Crazy, I tell ya! It's the most incredible, surreal, shocking, and startling feeling I've ever experienced. I mean, I know I should probably get used to the whole concept, but let's just go over this again: There is a LIVING CREATURE growing inside of me at this very moment. RIGHT NOW. Isn't that ODD? It's obviously one of the most--if not THE most--natural processes imaginable, but still. It's wild and unbelievable and I just feel so incredibly blessed that I get to experience all of this. (You might want to remind me of this later...)
Also, the baby is starting to collect poop. So that's nice. The email update today told me that baby's already starting to produce what will be it's first bowel movement. That's a lot of holding it in there, don't you think? Um, 5 months? It also mentioned that sometimes the baby actually poops INSIDE my body during labor. Also, I might poop during labor. (SICK.) That's like a double-decker poop taco. Sounds lovely. (Hope you weren't eating lunch or dinner or anything. Especially not Taco Bell!)
In less-gross news, this is the first weekend we're home and partly without plans in what will end up being about 10 weeks. This means we get to organize (!) and clean closets (!) and NEST (!!) and do the stuff that keeps me awake at night making lists upon lists in my head. I'm embarrassingly excited about this. I pretty much love to tidy up (sometimes even in other people's homes, which can be awk), but I also have a serious and apparently incurable case of pack-rat-itis and a hard core sentimentality which equals a whole lot of seemingly (but NOT) useless stuff. I mean, how do you know I won't NEED that stationary collection someday soon? Or that fairy sticker book? Or that little pouch of rocks and glitter? Or the dried petals from the first bouquet Bradley ever gave to me. YOU DON'T. But what it boils down to is that I can't bear to lose the memories that seem to so easily slip away. And since my memory is worse than that of a dogs (whose memory refreshes each 20 minutes, in case you didn't know), I need those little tchotchkes, those little tokens, those little treasures from days long ago, from experiences and trips and moments that made me who I am today.