Saturday, March 12, 2011

Precious Baby

Each week I await notification from to tell me a few things:
  1. How many weeks pregnant am I?
    • Why? Everyone wants to know. I'm convinced, at this point, it's mostly to remark on how they would assume I was further along. Another true quote from the weekend of (not feeling) positive self-esteem: person who shall remain nameless to protect the (seemingly) innocent: "How far along are you?" Me: "18 weeks, 4.5 months, 146 days to go!" (It's my go-to shtick about how I know down to the day how much longer, it usually works.) Person about to make me feel like crap: "Oh, I would have thought you were further along. (as I take that in to understand that I am in fact a beast she round house kicks me with) You look tired."
  2.  What kind of random fruit or vegetable will babycenter equate to the tiny human inside me growing?
    • If it wasn't strange enough to have a human growing inside me, let's talk about him or her in terms of the size of a kumquat (week 10). 
  3. While we are talking about my kumquat, what other random factoid is happening to make me feel (even more) creepy?
    • Hooray, week 14, this tiny human the size of a lemon is peeing! Yippee! Rogue urine inside my body!  In getting these emails I learn things I didn't know I didn't want to know until I do. Another example: you get a play by play on how ears are moving across the baby-to-be's head. Fun, at one point my baby's head looks like Sloth via The Goonies when (s)he's in utero.  Super.
Yesterday I got an email. I'm 19 weeks pregnant.  The baby is the size of a (large) heirloom tomato, (s)he's started to sprout hair & looks like Gollum cramped all up in my uterus. Yup, nothing to see here, Precious. Just another day of creepy living.

*Squished baby, bits & pieces of my anatomy, tomato picture & outline of a pickled baby at 19 weeks- courtesy of Gollum, courtesy of a google images search for smiling Gollum. (John: Gollum is a part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.)  Mash up of this whole collage of weird courtesy of my sick brain.

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