Tomorrow, at twenty-seven weeks, is the beginning of my third trimester. On one hand, time is really flying by. And on that same hand, time is really dragging. I feel like I've been pregnant forever. Oh, to taste wine again. Oh, those carefree days of not worrying about how much roofing tar I was inhaling while the guys did the roof at work. I've turned into such a paranoid freak about what I eat, breathe, touch, etc- remember those days when I'd casually light up a cigarette in the midst of dying my hair in an unventilated room? Yep, those were really the days. Some of the happiest of my life, really. Now I can't even wash my face without worrying about what toxins in my soap might be seeping into my skin, entering my bloodstream, and spewing out the baby end of the placenta.

I did a little light reading last night about breastfeeding before I went to bed. I'm really torn on what to do in that arena. On the one hand, breast milk is free and apparently the healthiest choice for the baby (even though I have a hard time believing that somehow my normal, wreckless diet is going to be super healthy). On the other hand, it sounds pretty awful. The word "engorged" came up a lot in my reading. Also the phrase "cracked and sore nipples." Also, can someone give me a straight answer on how much wine I can have with dinner before I nurse? And how much coffee in the morning? Apparently, *some* of that junk gets metabolized out, but I need to know how much. Because if I'm going to end up "pumping and dumping" after every indiscretion, then, really, what's the point of this?

So, the other day, I was looking at my 20 week ultrasound photos, and I realized that, for the past two-ish months, I haven't been correctly seeing the photo. See, I thought the photo was more of a profile pic, with most of the side of the baby's head aimed at the camera. Kind of disappointing, really. But then. The other day, I saw the blurry little ultrasound picture for what it was- a full picture of his entire little face! Two eyes, a cute little nose, and a sweet little curved smile. How could I have missed this? This whole time, I had a perfect picture of my boy at 20 weeks, and I basically just dismissed it as a somewhat useless profile shot. WHAT KIND OF HORRIBLE MOTHER AM I? I tell you, though, those few seconds when I realized how full of a picture it truly was, though- they were incredible. Now, when I'm home, I can't stop looking at it. He's a cute little guy, if you don't mind me saying so. Ridiculously so, really. I can't wait to see this kid in person. What kind of combination of me and Chris will little baby boy be? I hope he's more Chris; there's something very cherubic about Chris, in his pictures as a kid and even now as an adult. I doubt anyone would use the word cherubic to describe me at any point in my life. What words they would use, I'd rather not think about.