This post is going to be brief because I still haven’t even written an article that is WAAAY past due because I’ve been so busy the last week. But. Here is an 18 week picture:
|I know, I know I have total concentrated bitch face in here.|
When I look back to what I looked like a month ago, I can definitely tell I’ve “popped.” In fact, it’s startling sometimes. I’ll find myself walking into the bathroom without clothes on (pregnancy makes me want to be naked all the time. Clothes suck.) and catch myself in the mirror. My boobs are huge. (I just graduated to the next bra size up) My belly now looms in front of me in a way my worst bloating could never compete with. And I suck in my breath sometimes. It’s still shocking. Being pregnant. Being 18 weeks. I stare at myself in mirrors whenever I can and still, it can catch me off guard.
Chris and I celebrated our 7 year anniversary Sunday. Usually we go out to dinner at a fun restaurant, but since I have next to nothing for an appetite at night especially, I was hesitant to go out to a fancy restaurant, eat two bites of pasta and call it quits. (Plus bread service is my vice.) So we decided to go to a restaurant we usually only have dinner at and tried their brunch. Win. I ate three plates.
Then we went to see Jurassic World and baby and I proceeded to jump at all the scary dinosaur parts.
Then we came home and he had wine. I had a shower. Ew. Pregnancy makes me sweat a lot.
Two years ago, I was devastated over the loss of Adam. Last year my dear husband made our six year anniversary so special because of the shittiness of year five. And now, I have a tiny baby in me, which I just learned is working on making her own poop. I’m so in love with her.