Way To Go: Graduating From Embryo to Fetus.

Oh, my stupid guts. I wish you could just make up your mind and decide if you don't want to poop at all or if you want to poop like crazy. And bladder, you were my ace, only waking me up once in the middle of the night to empty you. Now you want to get up multiple times?? Blast.

My uterus is allegedly the size of an orange or small grapefruit and according to books and the interweb, 3/4 of my wardrobe shouldn't fit at this point. My pants fit but my shirts/hoodies are starting to hike up a smidge, thanks to these ever-expanding jugs. I'm putting off the shopping for now because the shirts my husband has grown out of are doing the trick.

The monster is no longer an embryo! It's graduated to FETUS!

If we're going to talk olives, this is the longest I've been sober since I was 19. I don't miss the alcohol, per se. The amount of boozing I had been doing pre-preggers was pretty minimal anyway. But in 31 weeks, these are the kind of olives I want to be talking about (not true at all, I hate martinis...but you know what I mean):

The little monster is becoming less-monsterific. The fingers and toes are no longer webbed and tooth buds are...budding. All the organs needed for the baby to run amok are formed and growing. And he/she is an inch long! And to think, next week, my pregnancy with be a 1/4 complete. Like I said, I'm taking advantage of every milestone I can.

I'm hoping that I can rally today and hit a movie or lunch, something outside of this house. Todd got a new job and that deserves some celebration because it's going to be SUPER helpful when the monster comes into our lives/home. Unfortunately, I've been a comatose zombie that's only been motivated by my bladder-n-guts. So hopefully the fetus will cut me some slack and let me enjoy my Saturday. Only time will tell.

Next up, more blood work. Good thing I have more blood than usual.