22 weeks

Things are going well in the Smalley household. The doldrums of winter have set in and it feels a bit like the same thing every day at this point. Maura is becoming quite independent and quite strong, and everyday I feel a mix of pride and sadness that she is growing up. She'll be 17 months tomorrow, and is almost walking on her own. She'll push every cart or toy in the house imaginable, walking everywhere into walls, and just this last week (and perfected today) she can stand on her own. I think it's a confidence issue at this point, and I give it another week until she's walking all on her own. It really is remarkable to watch her do these things that a few short months ago they said she would never do without tremendous trouble. 17 months is the top of the curve for walking, and developmentally she's always been about 6 weeks behind since she stopped growing at about 34 weeks, so really, we're right on target (or maybe that's just my justification).

The baby boy does not seem to have the same issues, at least at this point. I'm going every month for an ultrasound with the perinatologist and every month to my OB, so literally every other week he's getting poked and proded and looked at, and so far, so good. At last week's ultrasound he was measuring his usual 4 days ahead. Today at the OB, my belly was measuring almost 2 full weeks ahead, at 24 weeks as opposed to my real 22, and I gained 6 pounds this month, which although a lot, brings me even with the 8 lbs I had lost the first trimester. Hard to look at me now and believe I weighed this amount, but differently distributed, before I was even pregnant. Motivation for sure to get my ass in gear after he's born. Regardless, he's had quite a growth spurt even in the course of the week, and while it scares me a little to think about delivering a 10 lb. baby, I'll be thrilled to do it, if it means he's healthy. I look enormous, and have grown so much even over the past week. It really is bizarre to see my body grow along with him.

He's quite active, and breech, so he kicks me in the crotch all day with the occasional flailing punch in the gut. That's the feeling I miss most not being pregnant. While there's nothing like holding them in your arms, a close second is feeling that movement tucked away inside you.

It's cold here, and snowy and grey and wet, and every day I wish for at least 40 degrees so I can thaw out. I've had about enough of winter this year. No signs of spring yet, but hopefully soon.

Here's Miss Attitude and her mother, Miss Holy Hell That's a Big Belly.