25 Weeks

This week I'm 25 weeks pregnant.

This pregnancy has been such a different experience from my last. The morning sickness wasn't quite as bad as itself, but it was so much harder because I couldn't stop chasing a two-year-old just because I'd thrown up all morning. 

I crave bagels, not pizza; San Peligrino soda instead of 7Up. But I still can't get enough chocolate milk.

My nesting instincts have kicked in much earlier, and it seems like every week I have a new project for the house (poor Fabio!).

I don't think about or obsess over the fact that I'm pregnant nearly as often, but when I do think about it my anticipation and love for this little guy is much more intense.

He's measuring in the 70th percentile, so I'm not even as terrified of delivery this time around. In fact, I'm just more excited and less terrified in general. I think more about the coos, tiny toes, and snuggles than anything else--and I feel more confident that everything will be just wonderful.

Fabio felt him kick a couple weeks ago, and so the baby is starting to become real for him now--which means he is getting really excited for someone who cuddles all the time without protest.

One of my favorite things this time around is how aware the baby is of his big brother. He is more responsive to Jon's voice than to any other. Whenever J's in a silly mood, yelling and laughing and singing, the baby will get more and more excited--kicking faster and faster. When Jonathan wakes up in the morning and starts talking, the baby immediately starts his wiggles. When he has a tantrum, the baby tenses up. And when J lays down on my belly the squished little guy will push against him with both legs or both arms. I can't help but laugh and think, "And so it begins..."

And oh, is Jonathan is excited for this baby! He loves to tell people what you can do with a baby:

"You can cuddle the baby."
"Babies need bottles. You can hold his bottle."
"You can tickle the baby's tummy."
"Babies like foot-rubs."
"You can give the baby your finger, or let him honk your nose."

The other day we bought some clothes for the New Guy, and Jonathan quickly told the cashier, "Be careful. Those are for our baby. He's my brodder."

Sometimes Jon gets really quiet for a bit, then points at my belly, and then asks me something like, "The baby has a fire truck?" I explain that the baby doesn't have any toys in my tummy, and that it's his job to teach the baby about fun toys when he comes. Then Jonathan will nod and say, "Baby needs a fire truck. He use mine."

And every night when Jonathan prays, the first thing he says is, "Hea'nly Fadder, thank you for my brodder."

There's no question--this little baby boy is very loved. We can't wait to meet him.

See you in 15, little one!