Today I am officially 12 weeks along (making the baby the size of a plum). I still haven’t quite figured out if the first trimester ends at 12 or 14 weeks, but either way, I’m ready for it. I’ve had my fair share of exhaustion and “morning” sickness (if you haven’t heard already, it has nothing to do with the morning). And I’m starting to get to that point where the pants are just a little bit snug, yet have no major bump to show for it.
It’ll be a hot St. Louis summer when I’m in full bloom. A lot of people seem to think this is unfortunate. I, however, prefer it that way. I’d much rather wear a simple sundress than be bundled up in layers of maternity garb. Plus, as one friend who had both of her kids in late summer pointed out, “it’s better to be big and bloated with a warm summer glow than with a pale winter dullness.” (Though I have quite a few friends who were very pregnant over the winter, and they all looked great. Just trying to see the bright side of my situation, too.)
And, so, here we go. it’s hard to believe I’m already a third of the way there. I’ve always thought pregnancy lasted 9 months for a reason – giving us a chance to take it all in and get ourselves completely ready before the little bean’s arrival.