Tuesday, May 3, 2011

25 weeks

Baby boy,

We've been together 25 weeks now. Your hair has a color this week if we could see you. I'm guessing dark brown, though. You're about a pound and a half and can now fully make a fist. Trust me, I didn't need a book to tell me that. Little by little you're getting ready for the outside world.

Your mama is a mess. I swear you're sucking away my brain cells because I have forgotten how to do the following: spell common words, remember where my keys are, speak using the correct words and bring a fork directly to my mouth without spilling all over my shirt. It's like my brain has a veil around it where thoughts take double the time to process. My nickname of "the brain" is proving to be ironic.

Your favorite time to kick right now is bedtime. And it's not gentle anymore. Sometimes you are punching and kicking at the same time which makes my stomach look like a roller coaster. I'm getting more exhausted and sitting down for awhile makes me realize there just isn't enough room between my ribs and waist for everything.

We moved to a new house this weekend. Daddy did SO much work since you and I were under strict orders to take it easy. We cleaned instead. And cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned. And now we have two finals and unpacking to do.

I'm dizzy on random days now, and the tiredness is starting to creep back in though moving, finishing papers and finals and other things might be contributing to that. I can't eat as much anymore without feeling sick so it's back to itty bitty snacks frequently. And my body temperature has become a yo-yo and your always cold mama is frequently ON FIRE for no reason. I'm finally starting to look and feel pregnant. And crazy.

Love you, my little kicker.

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