Which means March is next, as Luke pointed out excitedly to me last night. Apparently telling him only 8 more weeks meant nothing, but the realization that next month is THE month, that March comes after February (as it has for, well, ever) made him nearly jump out of his seat. I have the most adorable husband.
I had a doctor's appointment this morning - everything is coming along nicely, and she's head down at this point, which is a huge relief to me. As long as she stays that way, we'll avoid a breech birth. Her little feet keep pushing up on my ribs, but thankfully they haven't slipped under there yet. These doctor appointments are always so boring, though, because I pee in a cup, I step on the scale, I wait for an eternity, and then spend 5 minutes with the doctor. Sigh. At least she's a very nice doctor - my favorite out of all doctors I've ever had. They check the heartbeat each time (always so strong!) and measure my stomach (32.5 cm today, from top of stomach down to the bottom, not around my waist - that's much larger, ugh). Reassuring news - she doesn't seem to be on the large side...so we're hoping that we don't have a sumo-baby. Or at least I'm hoping for that. Luke still thinks it would be cool to have a 10-pounder. I then repeat these words to him: "tearing" and "episiotomy". He shudders.
In 2 weeks we have our last ultrasound, where she should look more human thanks to some fat forming on her little body. Last time she was downright skeletal. After that, I start going to the doctor every week! Oh. My. Gosh. I'm so excited.
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