In my uncle's garden
Monday, December 30, 2002

I'm at 23 weeks now, and apparently the little one weighs just over a pound. If she were born now, she would have a good chance of survival, although she would probably be in bad shape.

We got some lovely little baby things for Christmas, mostly clothes. My parents got us some yellow onesies, good for a six month old, and some friends bought us a pink and white onesie (that is an awful word, I'll have to see if there's some other terminology) in a newborn size. Honestly, I can't imagine any human being being so small as to fit into that tiny thing, especially not a human being related to me. It's just... ridiculously small.

Now that Christmas is over I'll start looking into getting some gear for our baby girl; clothes, diapers, towels, and the all-important stroller. I think we're going to pass on a high chair and get a Stokke KinderZeat instead. (Actually, two, one for Delphine and one for Baby Number Two.) For several reasons: normal high chairs are ass ugly. Ug. Ly. They're not good for long (the KinderZeat will hold a 300 pounder), and they take up a lot of space. I'm not sure when we can start using the KinderZeat; the US sites say not until 18 months, but the Stokke website says it's good from 6 to 12 months. I expect we will figure it out on our own, and manage without a high chair until Del is old enough to use the KinderZeat.

We also need to do some thinking and rearranging of furniture. Although the only things that need to be done before she comes are to set up a crib in the bedroom, and magically create storage space for all her things. I have some ideas as to how to achieve the latter, primarily involving overhauling the closets in the two bedrooms. I guess I should move on this stuff before the third trimester exhaustion sets in.

I'm feeling well now, though; I do seem to tire out easily, but I'm generally capable of doing anything I could do before. I'm hardly showing at all, as far as I can tell, although others think am. It's odd, though, if I stand up straight and pull my tummy in, I look just like I did when I pulled the same trick before I was pregnant. Surely I'm not showing that much if such simple sleight-of-hand (-of-tummy) can eliminate the evidence. And furthermore, my normal jeans still fit. I don't like to sit in them, mind you, but they do up without any problem.

That's the drawback of being a fat pregnant woman; the stealth pregnancy. The advantage, though, is that I don't have to deal with a new shape and a new centre of balance. I have a tummy now; I always had a tummy. I have big boobs now; I always had big boobs. It's all very much the same as it was, and it saves me from all kinds of physical and mental anguish that itty-bitty ladies have to go through.

I can just barely feel her kicking now, and only in odd places. The anterior placenta means I can feel her kick down low, near my pelvis, and up high above my belly button, but nowhere else. I don't know if her kicks are ever going to get strong enough to be felt through the placenta; I hope so, because it's nice to get that reassurance that all is well, in between midwife visits.