I feel like I am starting to press my luck here. I have made it to the end of my second trimester. About to embark on the third. I have a belly that grows by the day, filled with a beautifully active and strong little boy.
It is still so hard some days to think that there is something wrong in there. By all accounts other than the technological peeks inside me, things are picture perfect.
Ok, well, truthfully in a "perfect" world I wouldn't still be randomly fighting morning sickness, and my veins wouldn't be quite so prominent (nor would my thighs and butt), but considering the many other things found in the grab bag of pregnancy, I'll gladly take my lot.
28 weeks has been a magic number for me since this all started being a "how long will this last" kind of situation. And now it's only two weeks away. That both terrifies me and thrills me. So glad to have made it this far, continually praying that I-no, that WE will make it further than any of us ever thought.
And somehow I neglected to take a picture this week. No giant ballooning growth though, so just look at last week, and next week, and conjure up something in between!
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