Lucidia Lohman

Am I Really That Old? (With Pictures!)

I can hardly move in here. And it’s dark.

Apparently, I am 33 weeks old, and I’m making sure Mom feels every minute of it. I’m pretty sure I’m at least 4 pounds right now. Maybe more.

Things have been hectic here, but all is well now. I was giving Mom a hard time for awhile as her body began adjusting to the weight gain, my never-ending bladder dancing, and this thing she calls “heartburn.” But I heard her tell Dad that she can sleep through the night now if she sleeps in a certain position. I still kick her though. Well, sometimes. It’s getting hard to move around in here. Things are getting cramped. I mainly just slide from one side to another and poke at this bladder. I get bored, so sometimes I’ll poke Mom’s ribcage. I love her diaphragm, too. It’s flexible. Great for my feet. Mom said she can’t breathe, but I don’t have anywhere else to go right now, to be honest with you, so feet in ribs and lungs will have to do.

These past two weeks, I have found out I can do two very important things: make Mom crave Mexican food (even Taco Bell when we’re low on cash) and hiccup—a lot. I think I hiccup 3-4 times a day. That’s crazy. But that Mexican food sure is worth it.

My favorite thing this week was when Mom was in a meeting with her boss, and I kept sliding, which I heard her say makes her shirt move (or something). So there she is, sitting there, with her shirt moving across her belly, trying to make sure no one notices! Oh, I’m a stinker.

It’ll get worse, Mom, before it gets better.

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Rogue Bean Hides From Ultrasound Technician

Why is it that these “parents” people insist on monitoring me every few weeks? I have been gestating (officially) now for 26 weeks and 1 day and, to celebrate, my parents took me back to that hospital for more picture-taking. I would have been much happier cuddling up to a baby movie with some nice warm nom noms, but Mom and Dad insisted that they need to make sure that I don’t have cysters in my brain. I think that’s what she called them anyway. At least this time Dad didn’t bring the video camera. Silly Dad… he still hasn’t shown you all my first video, and it’s a shame, because I was really moving the first time around. This time I just mooned my parents. That was funny!

At the doctor’s office, they made us wait in the very loud waiting room for an hour and a half. I think Mom was about ready to pull her hair out, and Dad kept saying in a real loud voice “I wish people would learn how to schedule things responsibly.” (Judge Judy was on, though, so that quieted Mom down. Mom really likes her and said she should be the next president or something.) Before we could go into the ultrasound room to get the picture-taking over with, I had to sit through an episode of some soapy opera and Judge Judy. These shows are so silly.

Happily I can report there are no cysters in my brain or my heart, and the doctor thought so much of my performance during the picture-taking that he didn’t even think it necessary to talk to Mom and Dad afterward. So, yeah, I’m super healthy. I’m two pounds, one ounce. I need to watch my figure, but I love me a good Whopper. Oh, and I ultimately had the last laugh today, refusing to flip over or move into a position conducive to getting a photo of my face. Here’s my foot (ready to kick the ultrasound tech if she calls me a “bad girl” one more time): (more…)