I do not understand this, not one bit. I'm almost five months pregnant now, so half way through. These are the glory days of pregnancy, and they're fleeting.
I finally look pregnant, not fat (for a while there, I seriously considered having t-shirts made that said that very thing).
I am past the morning sickness, but not yet into the huge-and-uncomfortable phase.
I've passed the scary bits early in one's pregnancy, and am not yet facing the imminence of the scary bits at the end.
Pregnant shopping is fun. I still love my maternity clothes - will I ever want to wear jeans with a real waistband again? MJ and I are buying cute crib bedding and adorable gender-neutral onesies, trying to pick out a crib (we've narrowed it down to 5 styles that are essentially the same, but right now this seems SO IMPORTANT), and
arguing bickering discussing whether or not to cloth diaper (spoiler alert: we are going to cloth diaper).
Everyone is excited for us and not yet able to criticize our parenting choices.
Even labor and delivery still seems like an exciting prospect.
Everything right now is so much fun. And it's going by too fast. 2012 is a big year for us: we have some major home renovations under way, there's that baby en route, I'm leaving the Marines in November, and I have to find a new job. It's a lot of upheaval all at once, especially for someone like me who doesn't exactly appreciate uncertainty.
Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond excited for all these big changes in my life. But I remember when nine months seemed like a long time, and now it seems like the end of this pregnancy will be here in the blink of an eye. Baby, you'd better stay in there for the full 38 weeks. I've got things to do, and I'm going to need all the time I can get!