21w6d

According to the books I'm reading and the websites I consult to track Ferris' progress, this week puts the baby at about 8 inches long and a little over 12 ounces. I try to keep that generalization in mind instead of wondering about the actual size of the squirt inside me. Up until that last ultrasound, I was perfectly content putting all my eggs in the book basket, having no qualms whatsoever with accepting that we were going on averages and probabilities instead of actualities. However, after seeing Ferris on that screen, yawning and squirming and swallowing, it hit me like a ton of bricks that this baby is not a part of someone's average - not a piece of a calculated puzzle. This is our baby, and that means a whole new set of circumstances and milestones.

I'm trying so hard to manage what I eat, hoping against hope that at my next doctor's appointment, I won't see an excessive increase in my weight when I step on the scale. My weight gain so far has been high enough that my doctor warned me of the potential for gestational diabetes and - hold on to your maternity jeans - high birth weight. The phrase "larger baby" is enough to stop me in my tracks and make me forget the fact that all I want is chocolate and Mexican food. So not only did my last trip to the grocery store require walking past certain sections with my eyes closed, meal planning is back and even when I'm not in the mood for roasted chicken with broccoli, it still finds its way to my plate.

After all, it's not really about me anymore, is it?