It seems I've once again reached the stage of pregnancy where I sometimes have to get up in the night and go make a plate of toast lest I starve to death on my pillow. I remember doing this with Nico, too, and in fact I got up around 3 AM the morning of his birthday and had toast, knowing it would be the last time I was allowed to eat for quite a while (over 24 hours, it would turn out).
I haven't written nearly as much about this pregnancy as I hoped / planned / should have. The trilobite continues to be an ideal and super-easy tenant. He also is rambunctious as can be, which is awesome and sometimes a little surreal. How can someone so small pack such hilariously big punches? We hit 28 weeks yesterday (third trimester!) and I went in for my routine OB appointment. My doctor chased the baby around with the Doppler as he grew increasingly sassy, booting the receiver and then scuttling away. She finally gave up, laughing, and asked, "Is this normal for you?" I was pleased to tell her that yes, it is.
If our current plan of only two children holds true, I will be okay. I will be so fulfilled with two (two!) fantastic little boys. But I'll be sad to never again host an extremely acrobatic baby who sometimes demands late night toast.