The pregnant chick and Banksy collide on Main Street in Park City.
Best bump picture ever, if you ask me.
Mostly because the cool graffiti distracts from my hugeness.
I'm retaining more water than a blow fish.
My bladder screams at me every five seconds.
Yep, we're in the home stretch folks.
I have no idea how I got to the point where I can count the number of weeks left of this pregnancy on one hand.
Having an almost-two-year-old really, really helps pass the time -- let me assure you.
But unlike my first pregnancy, I have done absolutely nothing so far to prepare.
I have a feeling he'll be surrounded by a whole lot of pink in the first few months of life.
Because people, that's what we've got around here.
Lots and lots and lots of pink.
My goal this week is to start researching double strollers and other important topics, such as "how to change a boy's diaper" (I'm secretly terrified).
Speaking of terrified -- I just had my first labor anxiety dream of the pregnancy a few days ago.
Apparently the delivery/recovery amnesia is starting to wear off -- as is my "can-do" attitude.
Because if I remember correctly, and I'm certain I do, the aftermath of pushing out a baby is brutal.
And my bravery surrounding the IV and epidural is starting to wane.
But it's all worth it.
That I'm most sure of.
I'm determined to savor these last few weeks...
feeling him wiggle in my belly
sleeping through the night
one-on-one time with my girl
And even with all my anxieties, I still get butterflies when I think about smooching his little nose for the first time.
Because what in this world is better than smooching the perfect little nose of a newborn?
Nothing, I tell you.
Until next week...