Belly shots!

30 weeks! As you can see, I'm carrying everything out in front, and am consequently assless. Flat Ass Syndrome runs in my family, and I'm terrified that this is the beginning of it for me. Lunges, here I come (in 3 months or so). Please ignore my unbrushed hair (and unmade bed - I am a slob).

Maternity jeans: fashion or torture device? In this case, both. I learned awhile back that panel jeans just make me look like I have the world's saggiest crotch (hott!), so the stretchy waist works best, though I spend half my day hiking the waistband up. Thank god for Goodwill (and their awesome half price Saturday that just passed). Eight items of maternity clothing for a paltry 20 clams.

You also might notice that the belly ring remains. Every time I went to the OB, one of the doctors would say, "That thing is going to have to come out." Once I asked why, and the response was, "You can't wear that in to surgery!" Seemed reasonable until the penny dropped and I realized I had no intention of having surgery just to give birth (barring an emergency, of course). When I started meeting with doulas, one of them suggested switching to a midwife, and so I did. Vive le difference! Though it's not an option for anyone having a higher-risk pregnancy, midwifery is the best choice for me, and I hadn't thought of it previously because I didn't think I would be allowed drugs (I was wrong). Obstetricians would do well to take some cues from midwifery and treat pregnancy and labor as natural processes rather than medical conditions to be "treated," as if they were diseases. And let their patients keep their damn navel rings in if they want to. End rant.

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Heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped coach me through my mom thing. It's all good now (after a few more cranky emails and, yes, me apologizing), and we've even been chatting online a bit. Progress is being made.