Mango and I both celebrated milestones last weekend: I turned 32, and s/he turned 34. Years, weeks, they’re all the same, no? We celebrated in style with visitors from out of town, a birthday party at the parents’ house, and even a wee snowstorm to beautify the neighborhood. All in all a solid birthday weekend. To be surrounded by friends AND family for my birthday was such a treat – it has been a long time since my birthday celebration involved mom’s homemade dinner and cake…it felt quite nice. Of course there is also the emotion of this being the last birthday that is just mine…and the novelty of Mango celebrating with me already (MORE CAKE! MORE CAKE IN HERE!)…and the inability to rely on the default “Let’s just go to the bar…” celebration (that didn’t stop my fellow celebrators though)…I don’t know, it all felt very nice and very right.
As for the wee one, Mango’s movements are so strong by now – my belly hops from here to there as the s/he rearranges whatever furniture s/he has decorated the womb with. I find it reassuring, not just for the attention the baby pays to the details of his or her environment (a tiny little organizer, how cute), but for the comfort in knowing that the little guy is getting bigger and stronger. At my midwife appointment this week, my belly measured just where it should (34cm), and the heartbeat has continued to grow stronger. It’s incredible…there is so much less background noise now, and so very much more heartbeat. While I keep reminding Mango that there are still weeks to go, I do feel more and more comfortable with the thought that were he or she to make an early arrival, we would be okay.
As for me, I’m hanging in there. Physically I still feel pretty great – minor aches and pains, some nights of difficulty sleeping, but nothing too terrible…and nothing like I thought I would feel by now. Somehow I had assumed that by this point in the pregnancy I would feel awful and miserable and when oh when will this ever end? But I don’t. Sure, I’m looking forward to a waist, a couple glasses of wine (make that margaritas), and a few hours of sleep on my stomach, but for now I’m doing okay, round as can be.
Round with a belly full of love. And leftover chocolate cake.