Not really. It sometimes feels that way, though. Here are the first belly shots of this pregnancy, and yes, that means I'm a bad mom. Oops. It's just that I'm rarely ready for work (when I look presentable) early enough for a photo shoot and T-R-U-S-T me, you do not want a shot from after I've spent late night hours in the ER. Have I ever told you about the oily mist that exists at the door to the ER, instantly ruining any attempt at fantastic hair and eliminating all makeup? No? Well, I swear it happens. Ask anyone who's worked there, and also it's the only way to explain the way I find myself looking halfway through my shift.
Anyway, here we are at 31 weeks, 4 days. Forgive the quality; I was using the self-timer and corralling a 2-year-old at the same time.
Here's a comparison of what I looked like at about the same time with Floyd, just for comparison.
The room to breathe, by the way, is nice, but does not make it any easier to sing in church. I'm so emotional that any darn hymn in the world brings me immediately to tears, so I've given up trying altogether. Just TRY walking into church services, stomach swollen and heavy with first boy-child, and then give Away In A Manger a whirl. It's impossible.
Doctor's orders indicate this baby will not remain in my belly a zillion years like his sister, so it's looking like his birthday will be in February. That's NEXT MONTH, folks.