16 Weeks!

Today we're 16 weeks pregnant...according to my book ("Pregnancy Week By Week"), the Bean is is about 4 1/3 - 4 2/3 inches (crown to rump...and I guess those thirds are important. It would be too easy to say "4 to 4 1/2 inches" wouldn't it?), and weighs about 2 3/4 ounces (or, if you're on the metric system, 80 grams). So, a bit bigger than our original "bean" reference, but "Bean" sounds cuter than "Fetus."

No movement yet; the book says that at this point I may feel a fluttering (what some of my friends have likened to a goldfish swimming around in your tummy), but so far nothing yet.

I'm gaining back my energy (thank goodness)--I no longer NEED 10-11 hours of sleep per night...I'm getting by on 9-10, and seem to be quite happy. At least Patrick's not hinted that I need more sleep, so that's a good thing for everyone. Still no funky cravings (so Patrick's hope that I'll grow to love okra is dying a slow death), and still eating a very impressive amount (there are times that Patrick & I eat about the same amount...he's quite proud, I assure you).

I have been shopping a few times, and thanks to Lorraine's lending of her "Prego clothes" (as her husband Bill tenderly calls them), I should be set for awhile for clothes. I am beginning to love my elastic waistbands....they're the coolest thing--it's elastic in the back, and the elastic has button holes that you can let out & fasten as your tummy grows. And yet, they're still fashionable. Or at least I think they are. I do wonder, though, why some makers of maternity wear insist on horizontal stripes for their tops. Who thought this is a good idea? Maybe they figure that, when a woman gets too big for anything else, she'll be desperate and won't mind looking like beached whale wearing a striped shirt. I'm not talking subtle striping. Some shirts I've seen have good 2-inch sized stripes on 'em. That's just mean.

I'm posting my 16 Week photos below....Patrick says I look cute, but all I can see is a shiny face, funky hair, and my belly poking out a bit from my t-shirt in the front view (by the way, prenatal vitamins are fabulous for the nails, and I'm shedding less hair, but the hair that's still on top of my head is going wild and there's not a darn thing I can do with it). I know I promised Rachel that I would not spend my pregnancy in sweats, but these aren't sweats--they're yoga pants. And I'm at home. (Not sure if you can see them, but I'm wearing cute pink argyle slippers, so you can tell that I'm not going outside. I promise.) The pooch is really becoming apparent!!! So anyway, I'm going to post the pictures so I can finish up dinner. We're having Not-So-Sloppy joes (a mix we picked up at the discount grocery store...don't worry--it's a brand we recognized & it's not expired), baked beans, and I baked an apple pie. I don't care that the pie started off in Mrs. Smith's kitchen; I brought it home, put it in my oven and baked it. The glory is all mine now.

Of course, since it's dinner, that means that Patrick will have to stop killing Ewoks (or at least stop dying at their hands. Which from what I understand, what with their only weapons being their cuteness and their rock-throwing, is pretty embarassing.) in his quest to save the galaxy. I think our galaxy may be doomed.