Twenty-two weeks three days

I went into the closet a few days ago and tried on every single coat and jacket I own. As I like my coats close-fitting, only one of them still goes around me. Unfortunately, this is my special going-out coat which I only wear on a limited basis as it's entirely made of white faux ermine and is absolutely huge. I call it my movie star coat. I love it but simply cannot wear it to work if I want it to stay nice. I've had to drag out my old chenille wrap which I haven't worn in more than five years. It's ragged (I call it bohemian) and sheds a bit, but it's warmer than just a cardigan. Luckily all my cardigans still work, even if only buttoned at the top.

Franklin's movements are a lot more noticeable now; I'm feeling him every day, though not big kicks every day. The other night in the bath he kicked so hard my tummy was visibly moving up and down. But then all the next day I was so sore in my middle; it felt like he was trying to force his way out of my stomach. One side was poking out more than the other, even.

I'm only seeing my midwife now, as the obstetrician thinks everything is just fine. We listened to his heartbeat and she measured him: he's a big boy already. I think he'll take after me and be a tall one. Well, Partner's not short either. He's probably the tallest in his whole family, just like I'm the tallest woman of all my relatives. But I don't care if Franklin turns out to be a little shrimp. Just so long as he's smart, caring, athletic, creative, honest, and handsome.

Partner plays all sorts of music for him now: I sometimes play piano for him or sing. I try to remember the words to all the art songs I know, the ones I used to sing for competitions. Partner either puts on a cd or breaks out the guitar.

Partner's parents are coming to visit for a few days at the end of the month and his father has warned him that his mother has gone overboard with baby stuff. But we don't mind. We want all we can get.