Puff

I am inflated: fingers, feet, face.

I hope it is mostly water and that, once baby is here, I will shrink back up to some semblance of my known self. That most of this weight will flush out on its own. That my feet will once again fit into my shoes.

Meanwhile, baby is dropping. I can tell because I can take bigger breaths than a week ago and my belly rests on my thighs when I sit.

Meanwhile, baby gear and big empty boxes fill the kitchen. Where will we put it all? Where will it live?

Meanwhile, baby is thirty days away.