Guess Who’s Still Pregnant?

You all ready for an update on Murdock? I know, I know. Another pregnancy-related post from an infertile blogger…how dull!

22 weeks and 6 days. Good enough for me to say “23 weeks”.

I have actually gone up to three days without using my doppler thanks to enough Easter candy consumed to keep Murdock buzzing for hours. It takes a lot of sugar to get him/her to kick hard enough to feel it through that annoyingly placed placenta…and stomach fat.

Women often describe the feeling of having the baby kick with such sweet sentiments like, “it feels like butterfly wings” or “softly popping bubbles”. To me it feels like gas except I know that my intestines have moved too far out and up to be that. Or here’s another description I gave to my husband the other night:

You know how you get a muscle twitch in your back or your eyelid and no matter how many times you rub or squeeze or poke at it, it continues to twitch involuntarily? Yeah. Now that’s what it feels like.

My boobs have morphed into those of a 40 year old wet-nurse. Oh, wait. Never mind.

I wish I could brag about my “bump”, but it’s in a rather sad state. Because of the weight I gained during the years of treatment, all in the middle section, it’s like I have a double decker bump: above the belly button is the top deck carrying my stomach and then below the belly button is the bottom deck with Murdock. Another way to imagine it (if you dare) is take a regular inflated balloon and squeeze it in the middle for a while then let go. See how it goes bump, indent, then bump again?

My thighs have become things of beauty, if the Rubenesque figure was still in vogue.

So there you go. An honest disclosure of pregnancy at six months. All told, it’s not been too bad. Hell, I’m still pregnant, right?

Three more months to go, give a week or two. All I have left to do is buy the necessities for the baby since here is the list I have:

  • Crib

And here’s what I need:

  • Everyfuckingthing else

I’ve got plenty of time, right?