Here's Jooner making his way outside my waistband:
We've been doing well at 21, eating our way through the week and outgrowing clothes left and right. But you've heard that story before.
Yesterday I felt the baby move! Not just internally, but I pressed on my belly and could feel his little feet kicking back. Big Z did the same thing and confirmed my suspicions. Ever since, I've been able to feel his little kicks throughout the day. Now that I know what they feel like, I realize that I've been feeling his feet for a week or so. It's exciting and a relief and so so crazy. I love those little boy kicks.
It's funny how self-conscious you can be about your non-pregnant body at any age. If you're fit, you work to keep yourself that way. If you feel like you could lose a few pounds, you're fixated on reaching that goal. When you're pregnant though, people not only that people encourage you to eat and gain weight, they praise you for it. Your appetite - that might have once felt insatiable and monstrous - somehow becomes a asset. "Go ahead and eat it, you're pregnant. You should eat what you want." It's treated like a fast metabolism or good bone structure - just something you have that other people wish they did or try to emulate.
I am fully enjoying it, but I worry about what my relationship with food will be like once Jooner is born. Right now, I indulge every hunger pang, fulfill every craving. The praise for eating what I want when I want will only last these 9 months. But so what? I'm enjoying it. And this weekend I'm going to get a Blizzard. Bring on the ice cream weather.