Bob has a new trick. It includes wedging himself up in the upper right hand corner of my torso and jabbing me with his sharp little knee. At least I think it's a knee.
I'm only just realizing that my kid is indeed not shaped like a basketball. He's pointy and jabby and freaking squirmy as all hell.
I like him, though - and I can't wait to meet him. But we're going to have to discuss this shoving-body-parts-into-Mom's-internal-organs thing.
Another new development: I can no longer bend at the waist. This make sitting awkward, much less picking something up off the ground.
Not being able to bend at the waist is the unfortunate side effect of no longer having a waist. I've always been a biggish girl, but I always had some defined narrowing between the boobs and the junk in the trunk. This no longer exists. I feel more like a tank than ever. My lovely turquoise polo shirt makes me look like the Adriatic Sea.
I think I'll wear black for the rest of the pregnancy.