I'm 19 weeks along today. The baby is kickin' up a storm. I'm used to it now. I wasn't at first, but it's become a regular part of my day. I've grown to enjoy the kicks as a reassurance that things are normal and healthy. Pregnancy is starting to agree with me more.
I find the whole thing a little strange still, emotionally, though. I have amusedly come to the realization that I do just prefer to be the only occupant of my body. I'm growing excited to meet my baby and find out the sex and start this whole motherhood stage of life. Not only is it what I want for myself, but my pregnancy will be over.
The Dude is growing happier about the baby all the time. He's started work on the nursery. That is, he's cleared out his junk from the space that will become the nursery and now it's ready for a transformation. We're going the Ikea route. It's cheap, has clean lines and is reasonably sturdy and reliable furniture. We'll paint, get a durable cute rug in there and get a decent used gliding chair on Kijiji or something.
I haven't been taking any pictures of my belly. I'll get to it. The Dude will take some nice shots of me once I'm a little bigger, maybe in December. Some women go all out cataloguing the experience. I guess I am too, in my way. I'm blogging. Perhaps if I found it more magical, I'd be getting photographic evidence rather than journaling my conflicted feelings.
On an unrelated note: Apparently the fetus can hear stuff now. I think about that from time to time when I watch Criminal Minds marathons.