This is the week we go from measuring crown to rump to crown to toes, so don't let the fact that he's ten inches this week and was six inches last week freak you out. Cyan weighs about 10.5 ounces. He's the size of a paper airplane.
I think we can all agree that I am desperately out of practice making paper airplanes. We shall pretend this never happened.
Four weeks until he could be viable outside the womb, God forbid.
I've gained 2-3 pounds, so the backwards slide seems over. Thank you, avocado and Greek yogurt! No signs of cholestasis yet, so yay! Doctor did test me last week to get baseline numbers, but I don't have those results yet.
And, for fun, here's the size of his hand compared to a full term baby.
Meanwhile, it seems all anyone (women... men are still treating me the same, except my boss, who seems to think I'm going to have this kid earlier and earlier and is now planning on my handing over projects two months before my due date, but I digress) is capable of saying to me at work now is, "How are you feeling?" I'm all of a sudden"Mama" or "Sweetie." It's driving me bonkers. And I'm getting a little short in my replies, or answering with something completely unrelated to being pregnant, or outright avoiding people I once thought were the "safe" ones to talk to.
Am I a horrible person? Can we talk about the weekend, or my other kids, or your upcoming vacation? Do you really need a daily update on my well being? "Well, my boobs hurt and I have major gas. How about you?"
I'd much rather get into a debate over the Oxford comma or the use if that vs. which.... really.