"Are you sure you're going to be able to deliver vaginally?!"My dad made this comment to me yesterday, alluding to my growing belly.
Well, I hope so. I hope that my belly size is not a sign of O's width, but her height and that she just has her dad's height genes. (this is a picture of my growing belly...almost 37 weeks! I am nearing the end of pre-term pregnancy)
Today, I am going through all of the baby clothes I have received as gifts or hand-me-downs. Separating them by size: 0-3, 3-6, 6+ months all the way to 18 months. I can't believe I already have toddler clothes, but grandma is taking advantage of the clearance sales at Carson's and I am not one to stop her. It's all precious to me. I am washing all of the 0-3 month stuff in preparation for O. I actually am looking forward to folding and putting it away. Admiring each little onesie and picturing my baby in it.
Right now, John is at daddy bootcamp, and I love him for it. I am sure most men would cringe at the thought of going to this, but he only complained that I didn't tell him about it sooner. Apparently I thought I sent him the appointment in Outlook, and I didn't, so he learned about it last night when I mentioned it was the next day. Right now, he is supposedly learning how to change a diaper and bonding with other soon-to-be or new dads. (you get to go back with your newborn for a refresher course for free.) 
This has not much to do with pregnancy or babies, but we got a new bread machine recently. The free one I got from my brother-in-law's mother baked it's last loaf recently and I had to get a replacement ASAP. Anyway, I am still trying to figure out how to get the bread right after two tries. The first loaf didn't rise well, and my second, well, you tell me. I think even my bread is commenting on my growing belly:
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