Half Time Show

There should be some kind of entertainment provided to pregnant women at 20 weeks, don't you think? I'll take fireworks, Paul McCartney medleys, marching bands... but spare me any unnecessary boob-flashing, we'll save that for the post-natal phase.

In the past week or so since udating, I've experienced all kinds of cool and fun things. Pregnancy-induced sciatica, leg cramps that wake me from a dead sleep screaming yet unable to writhe in pain, scale-induced arrythmia, and an experience with hot wax strips that left me without eyebrows. Neat.

I've also begun to experience regular baby movement. It is...wild. I know that many women gush and coo over the little flutters and taps. So, as usual, I feel deficient for not finding it coo-worthy. I find it strange. It is always unexpected and irregular, making me wonder if I need to tiptoe around for awhile, to prevent any further disturbance. Which is ridiculous, I know. It's funny, the only time I can count on movement is when I go to bed for the night. Then? Some kind of disco ball must start turning in my uterus, because it is party time! Baby A enjoys twisting the night away, for real.

We're marking the 20-week milestone, which coincides with T's yearly milestone and our anniversary by going away for the weekend. I'm really looking forward to it. On deck is our next ultrasound, which should determine whether or not I'll have to name this baby "Sleeping Beauty," so as not to break my favorite two year old's heart.