Today marks my 23rd week of pregnancy. Frankly, I have no clue how many months that equals.
“Then you must be an idiot!” you are undoubtedly shouting at the picture of me and my ever-growing bump.
With this, I cannot argue.
By my uncertain calculations, I am about five months along. However, according to What to Expect When You’re Expecting — which SHOULD be called Scaring the Hell Out of Pregnant Women with Worst-Case Scenarios and Having a Good Laugh at Their Expense — I am already well into my sixth month.
They’re the so-called experts, so I guess I’ll just accept their chart without questioning it… much like I did with my AP English teacher’s interpretation of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man — which apparently symbolizes the gestation of a soul and, therefore, James Joyce’s new principle of order.
I know what you’re thinking and, yes, today also marks Baby Girl’s evolution into a large mango. Every week I look up baby’s new developments on BabyCenter.com, a site that likens my child to fruits and vegetables. Which amuses my mom to no end. “This week, your baby is the size of a baked potato!” “You have a banana-sized baby gestating in there!” Last week, she was apparently a spaghetti squash.
No wonder I’m always so hungry.