Waiting... and waiting... and waiting...

You know, for all the advice, warnings and stories I've heard over the years about what to expect when one day I find myself with a little bun in the oven, there is one thing that no one ever bothered to tell me about: THE WAITING. I feel like all I do these days is sit around and wait for something new to happen: waiting for the symptoms, waiting for the ultrasound, waiting to hear the heartbeat, waiting for the tummy to bulge, waiting to learn the sex... I'm only in my fourth month, but I feel like I've pregnant for the better part of a decade!

The time between doctor's appointments feels like years have gone by. I've started to show but there hasn't been much change in the past few weeks, so I'm sort of stuck in this awkward middle stage - I'm not quite ready for maternity clothes yet but my regular pants are definitely not cutting it anymore. I can't shop for nursery stuff until I know if it's a boy or a girl, and getting to that point seems to be taking the longest of all!

I'm not usually this impatient, I swear. I know it will only get worse as I grow bigger and get closer to my due date. And I'm sure this time next year I'll be saying how the months just flew by. But right now time just seems to c r a w l.

Pregnancy is like watching my favorite television show, except every episode is a season finale - some important stuff happens, I end up with a little information and a lot of unanswered questions, but I always have wait until next season to see how it all plays out.