I've been home for an entire week now. And with the exception of two of my friends visiting me from Boston and Miami, I haven't done much of anything.
I mean, yes, I've done stuff: laundry, cooking, dusting. But I haven't gone anywhere. In fact, I haven't been in the car in three days.
But I'm resting.
Yesterday morning, I assembled FeeNo's changing table. All the baby furtniture arrived on Tuesday and the room wasn't cleared out. It's full of stuff: stroller, high chair, car seat, clothes, and diapers. Now it's my job to sort through it all. I'm not complaining, it's just that I didn't realize my belly was going to start to balloon in a matter of weeks, making things a little bit uncomfortable.
I'm clearly pregnant at 27 weeks. Entering my third trimester. FeeNo kicks and punches me and responds to conversations Mike and I have. It's a strange sensation, one I hope never to forget. I'm winded after climbing the steps. And I've given up on picking up the laundry basket full of clothes. I just can't do it anymore.
I've yet to scan my latest ultrasound picture, which is a shame on my part, since I am scheduled for another ultrasound next week. I'll get to it.