Today we finally hit 30 weeks. Although the sonogram wasn't great, everyone still assumes we'll be here awhile longer. It's just becoming more likely that the next few weeks will involve more restrictions for me which I would really prefer to avoid. Most of the time I have to force myself not to think about what could be ahead because if we get to that point, I'll have no real choice but to comply even though it will totally suck. Luckily, Tate was particularly precious during yesterday's sono: all curled up in a ball, sleeping, with his tiny hand rubbing his eyes. When I see him looking so real and human it's impossible not to love him, and that makes the hard stuff seem a little more bearable.
This week is shaping up to be long and boring. No going outside. No visits from Maggie, and hopefully no visits from Tate. Just waiting and hoping that next week things look better, not worse.