I just got back from a pregnancy yoga class, where the lovely teacher has commended me for staying so (relatively) nimble. I am not sure what I thought the end of pregnancy would be, but for whatever reason I had envisioned I would be less ambulatory than I am. I feel less comfortable in the pelvic zone, I am trying to convince the local aunties I am not having a boy or twins (and if I am having a boy or twins something is seriously amiss with ultrasound technology these days). I am trying to assess if I have really dropped as the doctor has said because if just looks like I have stuffed a basketball under my shirt. I suppose I am lucky that I can sleep (now that the coughing fits are over), although I have a mild discomfort on my left side which makes lying on my left a bit more theatrical than I normally am. The baby never keeps me awake - only my annoying bladder does but in typical Ho fashion I am not awake for long. My happy trail is alive and well and I think I have just realized my belly button is crooked (as are the remnants of my belly ring). Ah, true navel gazing.
I am reading Eclipse and aside from being horrified at the high school dialogue scenes (seriously, is there that much jaw dropping in adolescent conversation?) I am keeping up with all the wolf and vampire lore with unusual attention.
I am surprised how well my mother is adapting to Bucky. It is hard to hate a dog that basically does nothing but sleep and beg for scraps (and is generally sweet and unannoying in the latter). She was an unusually good sport when I took him in to the doggie eye specialist on Friday. Now if we can only get him to stop eating cat poo....
39 weeks and 4 days. Still no Kumquat.
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