
Actually, I can't truthfully complain about anyone in my life right now. I feel a little guilty that my family members and husband have all somehow been recruited as my waitstaff. Not that I'm having the time of my life stuck within the confines of a bedroom and relying on everyone else to get a drink of water or slices of watermelon from the refrigerator for me. I'm starting to feel like a bridge-dwelling troll of some sort and starting to resemble one, too. My ideal day isn't exactly one trapped indoors in an old tank-top and a pair of my husband's high school gym shorts. I swear it.
Ethan is doing great, though, and that's really all that matters. He had me up for most of the night kicking at and bouncing on my bladder but I can't complain when he's active, even if it's at four in the morning. I know that someday soon I'll miss feeling his little tugs, kicks and jabs causing havoc on my insides. The pregnancy websites are saying that he should be a little more than four pounds, but I know from my ultrasound last week that he's probably about five pounds by now. He should be losing his wrinkled look as his skeleton continues to develop and harden.
This week, Ethan's respiratory system is mostly mature. That's pretty great news although, of course, I'm still banishing him to stay put where he is for a few more weeks. Ethan can detect light and tell the difference between day or night, though I don't know how much he's able to hone those skills when we're trapped indoors like we are. My favorite prenatal fact of the week would be that his pupils can dilate and constrict in response to light!
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