Getting to 32 weeks is a lot like New Years Eve. You look forward to the day, full of promises of bacchanalian exuberance only to find yourself lying in a pool of your own vomit. Getting to 32 weeks had been such a fixation, it felt like by the time Monday came that I half expected to see a team of nurses break out into spontaneous song to commemorate this fertile benchmark. Alas, my cupcakes and streamers were replaced by anti-contraction meds at midnight, 2am, 4am, 6am, so on and so on for the remainder of each day. Good news: babies are still baking; bad news: no musical extravaganza.
How far along? 32 Weeks! Hell yeeeeeahh!
Total weight gain/loss: 52 e-fing lbs! I guess a diet of cheese quesadillas and a workout routine of walking to the bathroom doesn't promote a slender pregnancy.
Maternity clothes? I have graduated to monster sized panties this week!
Sleep: Is great if I can get to sleep by 10pm as the medical crew starts their daily parade at 6am.
Movement: Baby gladiators dukin' it out for space.
Food cravings: Anything not from the hospital
Gender: A boy and a girl
Labor Signs: Tons o' contractions and they seem to escalate in frequency and intensity every 3 days. No standing up pictures because we were on contraction monitor time too often.
What I miss: Doing stuff and when my best friends weren't nurses.
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