Evan was a little disturbed on Wednesday when rubbing my belly I proudly declared, "23 weeks, she's viable!" Don't get my wrong, I don't want to have my little girl at 23 weeks, (more like 37) but somehow it is comforting to know that if I went into labor the neonatologist could do something. I also like that I now have a good idea of what she looks like, somehow it makes her more real and tangible. Kind of like when she kicks me in the ribs, also very tangible.
I got to take care of a 23 week baby for a couple nights this week and I wanted to take footprints to show Evan how tiny they are, but it's not really legal, and he had an IV in his foot. So I'm settling for showing Evan pictures off the internet (see above image) and items in our house that weigh about the same as our baby, like a can of green beans. I'm also excited because I am finally past that awkward point where strangers wonder if you're pregnant, or just ate a few too many jelly beans. How do I know I'm past the "is she pregnant or just getting fat?" phase. . . well my 4 year old nephew came to visit for Mother's Day and while we were setting up the sail boat he randomly looked at me and said, "what's with your big belly, do you have a baby in there or something?" Classic! Other women may have been sad, but I'm proud of my little bulge, so I was ecstatic. Not to mention it was pretty fun to see his Dad/my big brother turn bright red and get all flustered.
