Despite looking closer to thirty-eight weeks pregnant,
I swear on my pint of Americone Dream that I’m only twenty-two weeks. Promise.
Week twenty-two in the Kammerzell household has been all kinds of crazy.
We’re in the process of moving (squee!) which means packing, which means lifting, which means I’m feeling pretty damn useless these days. Sure, I can pack. But that’s about it. Our incredible family (shoutout to mothers, sisters & friends!) have been spending their evenings this week filling in the spot that my not being able to do anything other than throw shit in boxes has created. They’ve packed, they’ve lifted, they’ve loaded and unloaded, and they’ve even helped clean. In payment, I’ve promised them each a lifetime supply of fresh baked cookies and my undying love. Because moving sucks and it was (shhh!) almost nice to have an excuse to participate minimally this time around.
This week, Baby is the size of a papaya. And allegedly sleeping 12-14 hours a day a fact someone really needs to prove to me. IF he’s sleeping at all, its not much because the human-bounce housing is pretty much nonstop. There’s so much going on in my belly that I’m pretty sure Baby is having a party and invited at least two friends. All kinds of elbows, knees, heels and headbutts to the bladder and groin.
My “Here’s the Belly!” pose.
Despite all that, I’m feeling great. At this point, I’m almost used to the hip pain and not surprised when it pops up after a long day of being on my feet or after a night of sleeping on my left side.
Heartburn is coming and going but nothing unmanageable. Its certainly not keeping me from fulfilling the near constant craving of spicy, spicier and spiciest in terms of food. But cravings are no joke, so I’m sure there isn’t much that would keep me away from them. I haven’t introduced you to my newest homies. Americone Dream and Cinnabon. Cinnabon has been playing hard to get – last week I drove to two malls in one day looking for one and was depressed to find out that they’d been replaced by Wetzel’s Pretzels. Who the hell would choose a pretzel over a ooey, gooey cinnamon roll? Not I. I did a google search and it turns out the closest one to us is about 20 miles away which is so not cool. Whatever. I’ll survive. It’ll be hard, but I think I can do it.
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I’ve been having a recurring nightmaredream that I am gestating not one but two babies. We’ve had an ultrasound, listened to Baby’s heartbeat at every appointment and my weight gain hasn’t been too terrible, so I’m sure that the dream is just that. But….waking up at 3am, in a cold sweat because you just envisioned birthing what you thought was a single baby and being told “Wait! Here comes another one!” is a scary thing.
Frightening.
I’m just going to keep praying that the baby girl my sister in law is dreaming of is in fact another baby that will be born to us years from now or is someone else’s kid entirely.
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