When I let Nikita out this morning I was greeted with our first dusting of snow for the season. It's just trace amounts, really, but I take it as a sign that we are finally making the turn for winter, a season about which I have mixed feelings. I love the snuggling in, the days spent at home, and all the things we do to keep warm (sweaters! tea! cocoa! hot water bottles in bed!). But I do like to keep winter at a distance. I like to see it outside my window, not to venture out into it.
We are at week 30, which sounds so advanced even though there are still at least 10 weeks to go, which also sounds like an eternity. I have to say that the physiological changes I've experienced in the last two weeks have been more profound than all those of the prior 28 weeks combined. I am embarrassed to admit that when we hit six months I was starting to get a little cocky. I felt great, I was sleeping well, eating well, and pretty much felt like myself. Pregnancy? Pfft. I've got this thing down. But now...I do a lot of "oooofing" whenever I move. Sleep doesn't come quite so easily and I feel like a parallel universe version of myself who is always in the morning after stage of some sort of extreme sport. In other words, I just ache. But, it's a good ache and I know that it will eventually come to a close. I remind myself that this phase is so very fleeting. Soon enough I'll be watching little legs kick into the air instead of feeling them pound into my rib cage.