Thirty Seven

The belly button has finally arrived. Sort of. It's not actually an outie, it's still an innie, but it pokes out. Weird. I must have one of mankind's deepest belly buttons. 

Changing positions in the middle of the night is a hilarious mixture of thrashing and grunting. By the time I settle into my new position, I'm wide awake. I've taken to wearing Conrad's t-shirts to bed. Sports bras are no longer part of the equation. I've worn them until now to minimize sagging later, but the amount of heat they hold on my body is absolutely not worth it. I figure a few weeks sans sports bra can't possibly do as much damage as a few weeks of heat rash and no sleep.

I've read two books this week, and I'm on my third. Call it cramming, I guess. I think some of the worst advice people give to pregnant women is "sleep now while you can!" One lovely reader pointed out that you can't store sleep for later, plus I'm already not sleeping as it is, so why bother? Instead, I'm spending my free hours doing something I know I won't be able to do for a long time, but will actually enrich me now: read a book with two free hands.

We installed our carseat. I love looking in the backseat of my car and seeing that little thing and imagining that soon my sweet baby will be all strapped in. In related news, we're basically packed for the hospital. Bags are ready, diaper bag is stocked, carseat is set up, and I've got my list of other things to grab by the door so we don't forget what we want to bring.

I'm much more sensitive and emotional than any other time in the pregnancy. My feelings are easily touched or hurt, and I'm chalking it up to simple lack of sleep. See above for explanation.