I managed to miss the 32 week update…oops! As stated yesterday, I haven’t been in a blogging mood these past couple of weeks (or in a mood to do anything, really) because I’ve been suffering from insomnia and its consequences. They say that losing sleep in the last weeks before delivery is nature’s way of preparing you for the real lack of sleep that will come when the baby is born, and I can certainly see how!

You can really see a difference in the 31 and 33 week pictures below…maybe I’ll only take belly shots every two weeks from now on?

Remember my scant stretch marks? Well they have definitely multiplied since June, when I posted that picture, and are now on both sides of my hips. The good news is that they remain short (about 2-3″ in length) and are localized, so it almost looks like they’re just indentation marks from my clothes. I still have yet to develop stretch marks anywhere else, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it’ll stay that way.

The funny thing is, my mother asked me last week if I had developed any stretch marks yet. When I showed them to her, she remarked that she got them in the same exact locations when she was pregnant with me! “And don’t worry about them,” she continued. “They all disappeared within a few months after giving birth — look!”

She then showed me the sides of her hips, and she was right. I couldn’t see anything. Not even white faded lines.

My mother is a freak of nature who lost all her baby weight plus a few more pounds, fairly quickly, without even trying, so I’m sincerely hoping that whatever genes played a role in our stretch marks will have the same effect on my weight.

Experts say that at 33 weeks, my baby now weighs about 4 lbs and is about 17 inches long. Lately I have been obsessed with looking up pictures of babies who are born prematurely at this point of gestation. It’s really comforting to know that most babies who are born at 33 weeks do not have much problems, and actually resemble the cute chubby babies (as opposed to skinny, sickly-looking babies) who are born at full term.

J refuses to look at pictures of premature babies because he says he has nightmares about them. He wants a big, FAT baby with arms and legs resembling those of the Michelin Man, and constantly encourages me to keep eating in hopes that my gaining extra weight will equal a fat baby. I have to remind him over and over again that a fat momma does not always equal a fat baby, and that he is more than welcome to hope and wish for a big baby when he is willing to squeeze a bowling ball out of his nostril.

There continues to be no major developments on the nursery front. The second bedroom has yet to be packed and cleaned; the crib that we purchased over a month ago still remains in a box in our foyer; and the carseat we purchased two weeks ago still sits in its original box, untouched, in the trunk of our car. We haven’t purchased anything else. Yes, we are officially the world’s laziest first-time-parents.

The baby continues to grow stronger and if her movements are indicative of her personality, she’ll be a feisty one. (“Just like her mom!” J says.) My new favorite nighttime ritual is to sit halfway reclined, lift up my shirt, and just watch her go crazy. Once in a while, she’ll extend herself to a point where you can see a bump protruding several inches out.

And although her kicks are becoming painful, this is the part of pregnancy I will miss the most. Maybe perhaps the only part of pregnancy I will miss. Because I love feeling my baby moving inside of me and wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. It’s a special feeling that only mothers can experience with their little ones, and (as cheesy as it sounds) at no time do I feel more connected to my baby, to feel so blessed, than when I feel her movements inside of me.