Since you are a kid, you hear about how pregnancy lasts nine months. Until you actually get pregnant --and it turns out to be a 40-week affair. Now, it's been a while since I've taken math, but I do know this translates into 10 months. I'm just saying.
Of course, there is the whole business of when doctors start counting what week you are on, etc., but the bottom line is that even though today I am at 25 weeks, I am not in my third trimester. Apparently that happens at week 28.
I have started to read a little bit more about giving birth and breast feeding and all of the other responsibilities I will have to take care of, while simultaneously trying not to freak myself out.
KLC, meanwhile, has been busy doing very productive and practical things like preparing the house. I had the idea that since the baby was coming in early September (supposedly), we'd leave the office/nursery more or less as is until some time in August.
Fortunately, someone in this relationship has already gone through this and has started to prepare. We now have a changing table, rocker, cloth diaper stuff (again, I need to learn how to use it), clothes and more in what has become more nursery than office. I can still work in the office/nursery, but as each day goes by, it edges slightly more towards a nursery/office.
So overall, I'm feeling pretty good, able to work out regularly, etc. I've heard rumors that things get much harder very soon, but since I am still in my second trimester according to the experts, I'll assume that doesn't apply to me for at least a little while longer.
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