Holy cow, I’m 26 weeks along right now. 26 weeks! She is still known as She Who Should Not Be Named around here. She’s known as Baby Sister to Mitchell. He points at my belly, pulls my shirt up, and the maternity pants down so he can wave at Baby Sister and have weird conversations with my belly. When he’s going down for a nap or bed, he likes to lay his head against my belly. He giggles when she kicks him. All in all, the stage has been set for an adorable sibling relationship. At least I’m crossing my fingers for that.
The little lady is, so far, a much different pregnancy than Mitchell’s. She refuses to accept any pressure whatsoever on my belly. I usually am a stomach sleeper, but, you know, with this giant belly in the way, I’ve compromised and moved to my side. Not that She Who Should Not Be Named considers this a compromise. Any part of my belly that touches the bed is kicked mercilessly. It’s quite unfair.