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"Pregnancy – 27 Weeks" or "Houston Restaurants Will Never Be the Same"

Yesterday I added Panera to the list of fine eating establishments whose bathroom I have violated.

And after eating the creamy tomato soup in a bread bowl. What a waste.
So my morning sickness continues all the live-long day. But I’ve decided to see it as a blessing rather than a curse. If nothing else, it has helped me to not gain 50 pounds of extra weight. I haven’t weighed myself in the last few days, but I have reached the 20-pound mark. There’s no telling what I would look like if not for the morning sickness.
My husband and I talked about this very fact last night. He says that from behind I don’t look pregnant, but once I turn around it’s like, “Whoa, Nellie!”
What a sweet and delusional man. He seems to have forgotten that he had to make a run to the maternity clothing store for me to buy new underwear because MY NORMAL UNDERWEAR, THEY DO NOT FIT. And they have not fit for many a moon. Proof positive that the nether regions are not what they once were.
And they weren’t all that to begin with.
But enough about my derriere. Let’s get back to the belly and its many looks.
My belly has taken on its own identity. I feel like I have the belly version of Sybil strapped to me, with a different personality for every day. All it needs is a pair of glasses and for my belly button to start saying, “You like me! You really like me!” and it would be Sally Field.
But if my belly button doesn’t start talking soon, it won’t get a chance. It has begun to flatten at an alarming rate, bringing to the light of day regions of my belly button that have never before been seen.
One of the personalities that my belly is taking on is that of the heat-seeking missle. I say that because it is now growing straight out. With a bit of a point. If we had some time-lapse video of my belly growth I feel sure that you would duck for cover.
Although it’s nowhere near as dramatic as the “Jon & Kate Plus 8” belly. Bless her heart.
Despite the shape that my belly is taking on, I can say with certainty that I am not going to birth a missile, but an acrobat. While Baby Michael’s movements the last couple of months have consisted mostly of jabs and kicks, the last few days he has moved into rolls and turns, with a little bit of the Marine belly crawl thrown in for good measure.
As a matter of fact, sometimes his movements cover so much area so quickly, I imagine him gripping the umbilical cord and swinging from one side of my belly to the other.
But you won’t hear complaints from me. I rejoice over every movement because they tell me that my baby boy is alive and kicking. And that’s not something that I’m willing to take for granted.
Swing away, Baby Michael. Swing away.
Just take it easy while I’m in Panera. Mama likes her soup.

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