01.20.05

So it�s still January, and I�m still pregnant. I have a serious problem in that I cannot for the life of me think of one interesting thing to type.

I have 8.5 weeks until I go on maternity leave. I am so counting down.

As for the pregnancy scene, I am now only 8 pounds away from my husband�s weight. Part of me freaks out about that, but the majority of me really could care less. I am quickly running out of clothes that fit me in any decent sort of manner, however, and also the money it takes to replace them. It doesn�t help that the majority of my maternity wardrobe is winter outfits (it being, oh I don�t know, THE MIDDLE OF WINTER) and now California has decided that THIS WEEK it will not be winter, oh no, it will be in the EIGHTIES. (And while I realize that this is a good thing, for the most part, I was looking forward to cooler weather during the worst part of the pregnancy when I have a full-blown internal personal heating system going on. Also, I was looking forward to covering up my big butt and flabby arms with yards of material acceptable for the season.)

Grr. Grumpy.

I�m looking to flattering cotton skirts and 3/4-length sleeves for my salvation through the rest of this pregnancy.

Food and I have reached an interesting point in our relationship. In many ways, I feel kind of like I�m back at the beginning. I feel occasionally nauseous and nothing really ever sounds good to me. I realize this is strange for the third trimester. The good news is (I suppose) that this has slowed down the weight gain somewhat. I only gained 5 lbs. in the past 5 weeks. (This is supposedly the �healthy� rate of gain, but up until a few weeks ago, I was gaining almost twice that much.) Helping this strange food aversion along is the heartburn. Good mercy, the heartburn. I had heard tales of heartburn and thought, �What�s the big deal, I�ve had heartburn before. A little stomach churning and then you�re fine.�

But no. This is a heartburn that is malicious and constantly present. It is an official member of the Axis of Evil. Every bite I put into my mouth, I KNOW will come back to haunt me. It moves it�s evil acidity up my esophagus and sits in the back of my throat, burning and searing. It wakes me up in the middle of the night, choking and gagging, so that I have to sleep elevated on three pillows. Gack. I can�t even type about it without feeling fear at invoking its wrath.

Tums is the new candy, you know.

The latest update on the nursery is that I vacuumed. Woohoo. The furniture sits waiting to be assembled in various places on the floor. One of the pieces is pine with a clear varnish so today I went to the hardware store, very determined to look like I knew exactly what I was doing, and purchased some sandpaper, primer, and white lacquer paint. And I�m going to do all this�right. Before the baby. Sometime.

So here�s me at 30 weeks. Eeek. I mean, I think I�m at a pretty good size here; not too big or uncomfortable. But knowing that I�ve still got 10 MORE WEEKS of growth to go--well, let�s just say I�m nervous. Very nervous. I�ll put the last few pictures up for comparison.

Whoa. What a difference a few weeks make. Also, I just noticed that in addition to charting my growing belly, you can note the back-fat progress I've been making as well! Neat!