How do I know? Because I am 30 weeks pregnant today. 10 more weeks to go. Yes, I know that technically translates to more than 2 months, but I have always felt an odd sense of accomplishment when I reach 30 weeks. There is no other weekly milestone about which I feel this way, not even when I make it the full 40 weeks.
I do realize the depths of my weirdness. Eh. What are you going to do?
Please enjoy the incredibly blurry, poorly-lit and completely underwhelming baby belly shots that follow. I have no idea how I manage to look so awkward in every self-portrait. It's a gift, really.
|See, here I cut off my own head. Which is probably for the best.|
|Rob calls this my pregnant ninja outfit. |
I especially enjoy the expression
on my face. It is a subtle combination of confusion and exhaustion, with just
a shade of ennui.
|I thought black was slimming? |
Apparently not slimming enough.
Yes, I know I have TEN! MORE! WEEKS! to go. I know I'm waddling all over the place and it looks like I'm about to drop this kid in the middle of the Target parking lot.
Not gonna happen, my friends. I'll make it, I know I will. The only time I've had a baby before a due date was when we all made Bun come out early because he was being a little punk on the inside. Otherwise, my kids hang out in there so long you would think that my uterus is Club Med.
So maybe it's more like 11 more weeks, but let's not dwell on that. My abs might just stage a mutiny.