Well. I'm just about twenty weeks at this point and am definitely showing. Somehow, I'm still wearing a few select items of my former, much skinnier wardrobe- such as work pants and a few of my sweaters- but I'm reaching a point where I'm going to need to do some major shopping. What an investment this kid is turning out to be! I have bought a few maternity items, and the other day I wore a maternity shirt to work that made me feel a little something like this:

I'm still very stressed out about money, but not feeling nearly as miserable as I did at the time of last posting. My next financial goal or obstacle or whatever you want to call it is getting through my court case (groan) and finding out how much my ticket and everything else is going to cost. And then, on with the day care hunt! So far, it has not been very fruitful, although at least I'm coming up with a couple of options for fall even if they do seem prohibitively expensive. It looks like, very best case scenario, I'm packing egg salad sandwiches for work every day for the rest of my life in order to afford this day care thing. Worst case scenario, we lose the house. On the bright side, at least I like egg salad. And being a homeowner is kind of overrated. Another worst case scenario involves taking my mother up on her numerous, pushy offers that involve me dropping the baby off at her house an hour and a half away every Sunday night and picking him/her up every Friday night. She doesn't seem to understand why that's not a viable option. God love that insane, irrational baby snatcher.

I have to keep reminding myself of how none of this is going to matter once I have the baby. That I'll just make it work and do whatever I have to for him or her and that the money will somehow be there. Oh, and on Monday I find out the baby's gender. Finally. I'm tired of switching back and forth between pronouns or using both pronouns at once or just thinking "screw it" and using "it." Not cool, man. This thing is not an it.

I'm at work now with my bra unsnapped beneath my shirt because my back and ribs hurt so much that I can't keep my bra clasped all day without doubling over in pain. It's not even that my bra is tight since I gladly adjusted sizes accordingly- it's just the pressure of wearing one at all that makes my very bones hurt. I can't wait to go home, put on my pajama pants and my long, baggy nightshirt that I've owned for years but am just now wearing due its size and comfortability factor. The nightshirt says "Angel" on it. It makes Chris laugh. At least we'll always have the laughter.