Six Montharoos!

I still insist that time is moving so slowly that it feels like it has stopped. But, somehow, six months has rolled by. People are starting to say things about my belly - nothing mean - but things like, "Well, look at YOU!" "You're finally starting to show!" "You just popped right OUT!" One thing I like about being this far along is that the uterus is like a bouncy dodge ball instead of just a bunch of jiggly fat hanging out there. It makes the pregnancy seem more real, you know?

My belly looks a little weird in this pic. I had the church keys in my hoodie. So it looks like Gage is doing an arabesque in there. And I know I continue to look like a winner. At least I shower every day. That is what matters most, my friends. Everything else is just gravy.

My adorable friend from Boise was in town yesterday. I baby-sat her kids while she went to a wedding in the temple (they are absolute dolls. My own kids were being buttheads, but her kids were ANGELS). And then she gave me the greatest baby gifts:

Her skillz amaze me. She told me that I'd better not change my mind about the baby's name. I told her we're sticking with it. Can you believe how cute that stuff is? And here's the best part - it's going to match the decor of the baby's room! It's kismet. She must have been listening to the Spirit! (Totally kidding.)

My life has improved in a few tiny ways in the past month. I got on some wicked-strong heartburn medication:

It has made my life soooo much easier. I no longer feel like I'm being stabbed in my chest and throat. Since I've started it, I am more nauseated and barf more, but seriously, if I have to choose between the heartburn pain and the barfing, I'll take the barfing. That's how horrible the heartburn pain was. I find myself drinking more and eating less, because liquids are easier to throw up. Which is bad of me, but who wants to eat when they're nauseated?? My perinatologist is having me drink low-calorie Gatorade, though, which is settling my stomach a bit more and helping me to replenish the electrolytes I've been losing through the barfing. My kids keep stealing my Gatorades, which makes me mad. That stuff ain't cheap.

Another huge improvement - I got permission to go back on my medicated face wash:

Oh, what a difference Benzoyl Peroxide makes. My face feels like a million bucks:

Do I still get pimples? Yes. But not as many. And they don't hurt so badly.

This is Gage's ultrasound pic from 24 weeks:

It reminds me of "The Scream," by Edvard Munch:

I can relate to your feelings, Gage. Trust me. This pregnancy is a nightmare for me, too.

We got a sweet picture of Gage's DNA from when we got that amniocentesis:

I don't know what number stands for what thing. But I think it's fun that I have a picture of his DNA strands.

I got another ultrasound a couple of days ago, and here are pics from that. Profile:

Um... his hand, maybe?:

And another face shot:

Which kind of reminds me of that evil Chucky doll smile.

So the perinatologist is all, "How many weeks are you, again?"

"26 weeks."

"Wow. You have yourself a big baby."

"Huh?"

"He's measuring like he's 28 1/2 weeks. He's already three pounds."

"Oh.... [wiggling my eyebrows] So does this mean I can get induced 2 1/2 weeks early?"

"No."

"Dang."

My kids usually come two weeks early, anyways. And it's a good thing. I have eight-pounders at two weeks early. They'd probably be ten-pounders if I went to term. Let's hope this little guy takes after his siblings and introduces himself a little earlier than 40 weeks.