Our little babe is now the size of a mango. At our ultrasound last week, he measured in the 78th percentile. Seth is scheming of ways we can get him up to the 99th and I'm trying to convince him to hold off until after he is actually birthed.
He's allegedly startled by loud noises, which means he is probably hating Stella and her recent over protective paranoia that some evil is always lurking at the door (you should hear my sweet, people-loving puppy's cujo impression when the Schwanns guy comes).
Pregnancy really is a crazy thing. Our tiny little guy already has fingerprints and eyelashes and taste buds. Amazing. He does not, however, have a name or anything close. Le sigh.
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