Today I'm 32 weeks pregnant. Eight months. Phew. While it seems like if someone is eight months pregnant, their due date should be in a month, surprise! A full-term pregnancy lasts between 37 and 42 weeks. So I really have about two months to go.

I'm starting to feel hugely pregnant, though. I suppose I should take another picture one of these days. In the beginning of the pregnancy, I was so diligent about taking a photo every Sunday. So I have all these photos of me from about 5 weeks to 10 or 11, where you can't really see much, if any, evidence of pregnancy. These days it's impossible to miss that I'm pregnant, so I guess I'm not so interested in scrutinizing myself for the signs. In fact, I'd rather forget about them (as if that were possible).

Anyway, I'm at the point now where I can't really bend over. I actually had leave work and run to the mall today to buy an emergency pair of pants because the ones I was wearing were suddenly painfully tight. It would have taken just as much time to run home and change my clothes and since I only had three wearable pairs of pants at that point, I figured I might as well just buy some.

But the good news is that things are getting to the point where I'm not too freaked out about all that still has to be done between now and January 19. Maybe because I'm approaching the point where I just want to be done with pregnancy already. Once we get car seats and a changing pad for the changing table, I'll feel like we have all the essentials and it won't matter so much if we don't get everything else in time.

I had a dream last night that I had already given birth (luckily, that wasn't part of the dream) and I was at the hospital with the baby, and she was good-natured and she nursed well and nothing about it was scary or stressful or exhausting. All my other baby-related dreams have been strange or anxiety-filled in some way; this was just ... pleasant. And that was a nice way to start my week.