I no longer have ankles; in their place are a couple of sturdy, sausage-looking things. Only slip-on shoes fit on my feet. I've also developed third-trimester carpal tunnel (not great for an illustrator) and I feel enormous. Truly, truly, truly enormous.
But I'm not wishing for this crazy time to be over, because I know I'll miss many things about pregnancy when it's done: the mysterious movements in my belly -- the fun of imagining what our daughter will be like, and the anticipation generally -- not having to give a damn what I look like or if my clothes are flattering (they're not! deal with it, world!) -- and the momentousness of these final days during which Ben and I are still Just the Two of Us (sort of).
I've been working hard to finish up a large-ish freelance job for a children's magazine (featuring a number of elephants, to whose size I can wholly relate these days), and I admit I was pretty nervous all week about the possibility of the baby making a slightly early debut -- because I was pretty sure I couldn't finish the illustrations from a bed at the birthing center.* Thankfully, it looks like the freelance job will be wrapped up before long (like, tomorrow) and I can proceed to the delivery room without a care in the world (except for the colossal anxieties associated with GIVING BIRTH and then CARING FOR A NEWBORN HUMAN!).
In other news, Ben rescued a cat from a tree yesterday! Honestly, my fella is something else.
* Or maybe I could. They are pretty cool there.
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