We are three weeks out. We are THREE WEEKS OUT. In three weeks I will have a day-old infant. Unless she comes early, which I have tried discussing with her, but she seems fairly comfortable where she is. I've packed on three pounds in the last two weeks and have moved into rotating through the same three shirts since even my other pregnancy clothes are a tight fit.
On the first go-round, I was so much more intensely aware of my daily habits. I ditched my trusty cancer-inducing Nalgene for a metal water bottle (which I hated), avoided all lunch meats and soft cheeses, ate zero raw batter while baking, and made sure I walked every day even when I wasn't catching the bus or going across campus. This time, I can't think of a time I've baked that I haven't licked the spoon, and when Welly finally started whining at me when it was clear I wasn't getting ready to take him for a walk, I looked him in the eye and said, "it's cold."
Ah well. If Lucy ends up with a Nobel and Stormageddon ends up in a penitentiary, at least I know it was because of raw eggs and not society/video games/the government/climate change. Or is that too many independent variables? Grad school was a few years ago.
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