Thirteen...

I'm telling you, either this baby is a giant or the old wives' tale about showing ten times faster with your second child is the solid truth.

Or, even better yet, I'm three or four weeks further along than those medical professionals suppose.

I'm hoping that's it.

But I won't hold my breath.

This pregnancy is going to cost me a fortune.

Not because of the medical bills, but because of my unshakable need to eat food that is not prepared by me.

If I can't order it, I don't want it (with the exception of green apples -- must have at least two a day).

Maybe that's why my belly is so big already...

Pizza, Thai, Cafe Rio, Pei Wei -- not exactly calorie free.

But goodness, pregnancy tastes good.

I have been waking up early to sneak off to the gym before Reece leaves for work every morning.

Though somewhat torturous, it's been my saving grace.

Somehow, I actually gain energy when I sacrifice sleep and sweat.

Go figure.

We'll see how long it lasts.

I think because my freshest memories of being pregnant involved a pair of very active feet jabbing at my ribs, I still have a difficult time believing this whole thing is real.

Though the nausea is there, the midsection is beginning to expand and the chest is inflating at an alarming rate, I sometimes forget there is an actual baby in there.

I can't wait to feel that first kick.

I can't wait to find out if Lola will have a brother or sister.

I can't wait to see what our second child will be like.

Speaking of big sister, Reece asked her about the baby the other day.

Instead of her usual kiss-to-mommy's-tummy, she shook her head, pointed to herself and firmly proclaimed "Bee Bee."  

That's right, little girl.

You are our baby.

And always will be.

Until next week!