happy 30 weeks! (the beginning of the end...or end of the beginning)

Even in the worst of times Fridays offer quite a bit to be happy about: the end of the work week or the beginning of the weekend (depending on whether you're a glass-half-empty or glass-half-full type of guy), an excuse to procrastinate all the mundane during-the-weekly things you hate to do (picking up the dry cleaning, writing that complaint letter to the idiots at Barclays bank, dealing with witless self-absorbed bosses, or even going to the doctor), and an almost unavoidable, ethereal and yet plainly recognizable feeling of freedom, temporary forgetfulness and anticipation.

Nevermind that this feeling often ends by the time Saturday night is over and the harsh reality of inevitable Monday once again looms menacingly above even the most deliciously gluttonous and company filled of Sunday brunches. Nevermind that. Friday is worth celebrating per se because...well, because. (That was the point of that pretentious italicized latin phrase, right?)

But this Friday is of singular importance and comes with especial reason to celebrate because it marks the end of a very specific beginning and the beginning of a very specific end.

Just as I have done for the past 29 weeks, every Friday I squeal a now familiar phrase at Matt. Sometimes I do it as he's sneaking out of the bedroom to go to the gym at 6:30am and make him jump. Sometimes I do it over the phone at 10:30am as he's sitting uncomfortably covering the phone receiver in his office and I'm sipping my decaf latte. Sometimes I do it while jumping at him in a comical oompa-loompa-esque fashion when he gets home for work. And even if I've already done it, I usually do it again while we're standing in the kitchen of a Thursday or Friday evening and Matt is taking a picture of my growing belly: Happy (insert number) weeks!

Today marks the "there's probably less than 10 weeks left until you're a parent" point. It marks the end of being "kind of pregnant" and puts me in the "legitimately large and worthy of a seat on the bus no matter who you are" category. It means that now people smile at me for no reason at all in the most random of places and knowing of ways. It means I kind of deserve (however annoying it may be) to have strangers question why I am purchasing prawns or brie cheese at the supermarket in the collective spirit of humanity and its preservation. And it also means I have an excuse to rub my belly pretty much whenever and wherever I want. Because the thing is, now, even the baby has lost all modesty and my stomach often involuntarily contorts into funny shapes because he's stretching or just plain being a brat. (Gee, I wonder who he takes after.)

So now the hour is nigh, I felt I should dedicate a post to the unbelievable past 30 weeks Matt and I have been through. This will inevitably include a lot of photos. *evil grin*

Oh but one last thing before I do the mammoth posting, as there seems to be some confusion among you: No, we are not naming the little guy Ludovictus. That's just his occasional (and uteran) nickname (Mom was reading The Last Samurai when she visited me in October). He does have a real name now, but we're keeping that conspiratorially secret . It's just one of those perks of being the parents.

9 weeks old and bucking like an upside down bronco & me unsuspectingly slothing about in Greece 4 weeks earlier

A thumbs-up to let us know all is well womb-side at 12 weeks & me with my friend Leah at Gabby & Brian's wedding in Ohio the same week.


Then suddenly at 19/20 weeks...I have a belly and he's a BOY (who looks uncannily like Mr. Magoo)!


Oh and while he was growing these perfect little feet...

...I was growing bigger... and bigger...and BIGGER!

We went to our 30 week midwife appointment last night at the Birth Centre and then celebrated with a feast of the Indian persuasion at Jaffna House, the local curry joint in Tooting. At the end of the dinner a woman with an open bottle of vodka on her table who had been sucking on crab legs offensively loudly when we first walked in and then took a quick 30-minute nap while we ate our meal looked up, sleepy-eyed, observed my belly as I walked out and suddenly broke into a semi-toothless grin followed by an enthusiastic thumbs up.

All in all, a very happy 30 weeks indeed.