I am often flooded with moments of pure adoration of you even though you haven't made your official appearance in the world just yet. Even when you have your little bum up under my rib cage, and I can feel you boxing my bladder, I am in awe of the fact that you're inside of me. A growing person. Woah!
I do have one bone to pick with you, though. That bone is cankles. Never before in my life have I known what it felt like to have my calf merge seamlessly with my ankles until now. I look at my swollen piggies every night, and I have to remind myself that all of this fluid retention is going to go aways once you get here. I try to remind myself of what my feet used to look like. Thin. Veiny. Small. I have gone up a shoe size to accommodate the swollen features of my new appendages. Sad news.
So, amidst all the wonder and joy and kicking and fluttering and awesome that is you, I have found myself looking down in total shock as my ankles have earned themselves fat wrinkles by the end of each day. Cankles are one of the few things I would give back. I'd give them back before I gave back 6-weeks of 24 hour a day nausea. Now that's saying something.