My countdown calendar says NewBaby is now the length of a dinner fork, and weighs 7 ounces. But he weighed 7 ounces last week, so, who knows? Regardless, at some point between last Friday and this Friday, I’ve transitioned from occasionally feeling some baby-like flutters to getting rather noticeably thumped 82 times a day. It’s kind of bizarre to have someone hitting you *from the inside* and the person you’re talking to has no idea anything out of the ordinary is happening.
This pregnancy feels like it is dragging on so slowly, in part because of where I’m at, in my personal danger zone – time seems to be practically standing still. I go from excitable optimism to dreary pessimism to hope to “god, how many more weeks of this again?” probably ten times a day. I’m 18 weeks today, which means it’s just less than 6 weeks until I’m more pregnant than I’ve ever been. 6 weeks seems like tomorrow, but it’s also so far away. And it’s not even that big of a milestone, gestationally.
18 weeks today also means it’s time for my next P17 shot! The injection excitement is never-ending with this pregnancy. These are different from my Lovenox shots – in some ways easier, in some ways worse – but most notably I have to go to the doctor to get them. There is a nurse there who is possibly the best injecter I’ve ever had, so I cross my fingers every week that I get her. They aren’t so bad except that the day after I get them, I get irrationally angry and moody, which is fun for everyone around me. The first one was the worst, last week’s was much better, so I’m hoping perhaps by this week or next it won’t really bother me so much. Most people I’ve found discussing them online said that particular side effect improved a lot 3 or 4 weeks in.
18 weeks down, 20 weeks to go. Every day I’m not on bed rest or in the hospital is a lucky one.