Prego proof

Here's the evidence of my hugeness.

I guess I don't look as huge as I feel. It's such a strange stage, this final month. My uterus is the size of two basketballs, jammed into my gut, elbowing all other organs out of the way, pushing down into my pelvis. Pregnancy is so weird. It's unbelievably cool to feel that little baby wiggling around in there. And it's so freaky to have my body change so dramatically. Dean and I are convinced that the fear and misunderstanding of pregnancy, child birth, and nursing sparked all horror literature. Maybe it's not true, but it's still a nice thought.

Doctor says I could go at any moment. We're hoping to get past Christmas. Am I ready? For Christmas, for baby, for anything? No, of course not. But I am getting eager to meet this little girl. She's going to be so fabulous. But I must finish this draft of jack before then. Not that I'd be disappointed to go into labor right now. These past couple of days, I've been a writhing mass of misery (Dean claims, anyway). There is no rest for the gravid.