I’m now sixteen weeks pregnant. That’s getting alarmingly close to halfway there. In some ways I feel like I just started all this, and in some ways it feels like I’ve been pregnant forever.
According to various books and websites (all of which contradict each other), the Muppet is now about 4-4 1/2 inches from crown to rump, or about the size of an average avocado. The fruit/vegetable analogy is something the books and websites use a lot of, though I find it not entirely helpful. Avocados do tend to vary in size quite a bit. I’m sure fetuses do as well, which is why it’s sort of silly to expect a book to tell me exactly how big my baby is right now.
Other landmarks in fetal development, according to the books and websites: its kidneys are functioning; its facial muscles are developing and it’s beginning to be able to make faces; its heart is pumping 25 quarts of blood per day; and, although its eyelids are still fused together, it’s beginning to be able to move its eyes.
As for me, I can almost forget how miserable I was just a few short weeks ago. I’ve never in my life enjoyed eating like I enjoy eating these days. I have much more energy and mental acuity and feel really productive at home and at work. The only symptom that’s really getting me right now is this hip pain that makes me feel like an old lady. Some nights I toss and turn and get so little sleep I’m like a zombie the next day. A little old lady zombie.
People often ask if we’re planning on finding out the sex. The answer is YES, definitely. I used to think I’d want it to be a surprise, but that hasn’t turned out to be true at all. My cousin said that it’s a surprise no matter when you find out and it turns out I agree with that. I’d rather have that surprise earlier, and at a time when I’m not exhausted after having gone through the most harrowing experience of my life. This means that in about a month, assuming the baby cooperates, we’ll find out if we’re having a boy or a girl.
We also get asked if we have a preference one way or another. I’ve thought about this a lot because I don’t want to say I don’t have a preference just because I think I shouldn’t have a preference. But really, I don’t. It’s mind-boggling enough to be procreating as it is; I can hardly imagine what it will be like having any kind of baby at all. I guess I’m not equipped to speculate beyond that. I just want a healthy one, please. Who sleeps through the night and doesn’t end up hating me later in life.
Hopefully that’s not too much to ask for!