I'm officially 30 weeks pregnant (at least I was on Saturday). I thought I would never make it this far! This trimester has been the best so far (granted, I'm only a couple weeks into it). I've gotten the nausea under control (finally), with the help of Reglan and Zantac (which I keep mispronouncing Xanax, garnering a fair share of odd looks - one from my doctor. She was nearly positive she hadn't prescribed it!) I've come to realize that I've been fairly "complainy" during this whole pregnancy thing. I'm sure my coworkers want to shoot me on a daily basis. I do apologize for my complaininess. I couldn't wait to be pregnant and part of me feels like I should welcome every ache and discomfort simply because I wanted it so badly. Well. I honestly didn't know it would suck so much. I am grateful that I have been able to experience it and look forward to the weeks to come (sort of. Part of me wishes I could skip right ahead to the birth and the other part wants to skip that part too!)
I can't wait, however, to hold my baby. It used to be that when I thought of babies, I thought of a cute seven month old "Gerber baby" with chubby cheeks and a delightful giggle. I used to want to skip all the hard beginning stuff, straight to the Gerber stage. Now when I picture holding Teddy I picture a tiny, scrunched up newborn, knees folded into his chest and cheek resting on my shoulder. I can't wait to experience all the stages of his growth.
I was able to go to my parents' house this past weekend for a visit. I love going home and never seem to get to any more. I realized while I was there that it was likely that the next time I visited I would have an almost four month old baby (this would be for Thanksgiving). That's insane. I can't wait!