We hit 24 weeks gestation on Wednesday - what is now considered the point of viability to pre-term babies, so long as they have significant medical intervention, of course. I'm using all of my brain power and good vibes to convince this little girl she wants to hang out inside for AT LEAST another 16 weeks, but I can't pretend it's not reassuring to know that if something crazy were to happen, she's at least got a good fighting chance.
Five months ago this point seemed so far off, and too fragile a dream to hope for. But we're here. We've made it this far. And all signs point to this pregnancy continuing on just as it has so far, uneventful and completely normal. Thank God. I've never been so happy to be "normal".
Baby girl weighs just over a pound and is about twelve inches long, or about the length of an ear of corn. Her movements are more pronounced and I love to feel her dancing, flipping, poking - whatever it is that she's doing in there. I just like to feel her move. It reassures me and comforts me and makes my heart happy. The evenings, when I get home and can finally sit back and relax, those are her most active times. We poke back and forth at each other - it's like she's celebrating with me the fact that I'm home from work.
I followed along with a prenatal yoga video from YouTube last night. It wasn't bad at all, though I can tell I need to continue to work on these stretches, because man, I've lost a lot of my limber by not working out the last five months. It'll get better, though. I got this.