Golden Gestational Week

I'm 25 years old and I'm 25 weeks pregnant, which must mean that this is my Golden Gestational Week! Okay, I made that up. But I'm celebrating anyway. By eating lots of food and taking lots of naps. And applying lots of cocoa butter lotion. It's a par-tay!

The doctor measured my belly length, I'm 33 cm. Typically, the length matches the number of weeks you are +/- 2cm.

So, I look like I'm 33 weeks pregnant, 31 at best. And this aint slowing down, no ma'am. Because these boys are going to keep getting bigger and bigger:

Wooie, look at that kid's body profile. They're getting so long! I swear I feel one baby simultaneously punch me on one side and kick me clear on the opposite side of my bulge. I guess it could be the two working in conjuction... but it's so coordinated, it has to be one!

They were being so cute for these pictures. Here's A taking a little rest on his arm.

The tech would push the wand deeper and shallower so we could sort of get an idea of what the face really looked like. It also revealed that A's feet were right in front of his own face. Stretch out, little dude! There's room!... for now...

And look, B's in the same position! Like twins!

Oh, right.

The only difference is that while A can rest peacefully on his cushion of tissue and fluid, B's being sat on by his brother. We even saw A wriggle his lil' bum right in B's face. Boys will be boys.

We also got some, ahem, "boy" pictures, which I will refrain from posting here. Out of consideration for you? Or them? Or me? These are the kind of existential questions we must ponder...

Everything's still healthy and strong, for which I am indescribably thankful. Though A's a bit bigger than average (his head is a week and a half bigger than normal! That'll be fun for me...) and B's a bit on the lower end of the age percentile. But nothing to worry about now, we just keep monitoring. And monitoring. And monitoring. And monitoring.