Hello, third trimester. This is when shit gets REAL. Like, there is a mother effin' BABY coming in a few weeks. For reals. Time to get your act together!
Let me answer some questions.
Yes. I feel Baby Girl moving every day, all day long. Now, I can even see my stomach move (though, no identifiable body parts trying to poke through yet).
Yes. We have one name that we super-duper like and a whole bunch that we are on the fence about. David refuses to commit to one name, even though he has "accidentally" referred to her by the name we like. Twice. Admittedly, I am also scared of committing to a name before I see her sweet little face, but I feel like we have a good name that will suit her.
If by ready, you mean piles and piles of boxes in the corner of the room, then YES. The nursery is ready.
How do I feel? I feel terrible! Every week is something new to complain about at my next doctor appointment. During which, my doctor says, "Yep. It's only worse from here." THANKS. Actually, I love my doctor. He is matter-of-fact and caring. He is a fan of so-called "natural" medicine such as acupuncture, and believes I should do the things that make me feel good and not worry so much how it will affect baby. (For example: My spa didn't want to give me a massage at 12 weeks pregnant. "GO. GET. A. MASSAGE." I called them back and lied.) He believes in the power of a good epidural. He is a good balance (as am I) of a nature and science.
I am so out of control of my body. I've completely handed it over to the baby. I'm only along for the ride. What else can you do? A few days ago, I reached up to grab something from the top of the refrigerator and when my shirt lifted up, Kennedy caught a glimpse of my stretch marks. She was horrified.
"April. What is on your stomach right there?"
"Oh. Just stretch marks from my belly growing."
"Ew? It's just your body! This is what your body does when it grows to make room for a baby."
I am sure she's scarred for life. I refuse to make a big deal about my body in front of this impressionable tween girl. And I feel LUCKY to have stretch marks. It means my baby is growing healthy. Last August, when my first baby would have arrived, I would have killed to have stretch marks. Do I love how they look? Of course not. But eh? What are ya gonna do?