The power of four

I'm having one of those days where I feel enormous and uncomfortable. My ribs stick into my stomach; my skin feels taut and stretched to capacity. I feel ungainly and heavy and clumsy, and can only walk at a snail's pace. My back aches with holding up a belly, my lower abdominal ligaments scream each time I move my legs.

I come home, change into even more flexible clothing than I used to have on. I lounge on the couch and read. The Boy comes over, talks to my belly, kisses the baby. I tell him that I remember from some week-by-week predictor that the baby has finished making everything -- all its organs and bits are now in place, and the rest of the pregnancy is for growing. The baby weighs about two pounds now.

And I'm suddenly struck by the fact that this baby will likely quadruple in size in the next three months prior to birth.

FOUR. TIMES. BIGGER.

I already feel stretched and squished to capacity. If it weren't for the fact that I've done this before, and managed not to explode from an almost eight pound baby, I'd be terrified by that knowledge.