16 weeks and counting

Here I am at 16 weeks. This picture was taken in a fun house mirror at Storyville today, and I'm pretty sure it's a "skinny" mirror. It might also be a camera trick - I took up much more of the mirror according to the image that reached my brain vs. the one that reached the camera's sensor. I think I'll have to go back every week to take a new picture, so I can remain under the illusion that I actually look like this in real life. Also - my jeans were not that dirty, but the mirror's sheen leaves a bit to be desired.

This pregnancy was long awaited and hoped for, and I have to say that it has been nothing short of perfect. I was (we were) understandably nervous in the beginning - we were braced for the worst - we could hardly believe that we had finally conceived! Those early ultrasounds were nerve-wracking and scary and ultimately turned out to provide welcome relief, as we saw that little flicker of a heartbeat. And in one of the Lord's tender mercies, I started feeling movement SO EARLY! It was at 11.5 weeks that I first thought, "Is that what I think it is?" I kept feeling it intermittently, and now - five weeks later! - I get to feel that little body moving many times a day. I love that sweet reassurance that everything's just fine.

I never expected that our first two children would come more than four years apart. We had planned on spacing them about two years apart. Over the years, I have sometimes felt so sad for our three-year-old - the social butterfly and baby lover - who was all alone in our family. All of that has faded away, though, and it's been replaced with sheer joy. (Beauty for Ashes)

Our son is old enough to understand what's going on, and he is beside himself with excitement! He tells me 40-50 times a day (I've counted!) that he loves the baby. He gives my tummy hugs and kisses and he "helps" us come up with names. Fleep, Abopot, and Egg Scissors are just a few of his suggestions. So helpful, right? When I slip and tell him he's going to be a great big brother, he corrects me and insists that he already is a great big brother. And that is true. Already loving, already protective, already planning to teach the baby so many things.

He also says some pretty funny things about the baby. At about 11 weeks - just barely showing - he told me "Mom, your tummy is so FAT! It's huge, like a balloon!" I just had to laugh, because if he thought it was huge at that point, he has NO IDEA what's coming! On Sunday morning, he sleepily wandered into the bathroom as I was getting ready. I gave him a hug and a kiss, and asked how his night was. He said, "Good! How was the baby's night?" I chuckled and said it was fine. He ran out to Daddy and reported, "I asked the baby's mommy how the baby's night was, and she said it was good!" And later that day, he told us that he loves the baby so much that he also loves us. So there's hierarchy of importance in our family, according to the three-year-old: 1. the baby; tied for 2. Mom and Dad.

Well, it is dinner time, and it truly will be a YOYO night if I don't stop. And Dad's at the temple, so that boy would probably climb up in the pantry and eat all the marshmallows if it were up to him.