Even though so much has happened in these past couple of months, it seems like time has crawled by. To be fair, I guess there was four weeks of the pregnancy that I didn’t realize I was pregnant.
It’s hard to imagine what I would like 33 weeks pregnant. I’m pretty sure fat. My round face much rounder, my size 7 feet maybe a size 8, my stomach the size of… a beach ball? Definitely more beached whale than Beyonce.
Truthfully though, who knows if I would still be pregnant at this point. While I dream about a normal pregnancy, in actuality I would be 15 weeks into chemo with no hair. I’d be living in Seattle away from Dan. My high-risk OB sat us down in the hospital to give us the facts of pre-mature babies. She made it sound like 24 weeks was the goal, but 28 weeks would give us a greater chance.
Nobody knows how far along I would have carried the baby with the cancer. I know when I think about the pregnancy, the cancer has no place in my mind. I just imagine being the size of a small house, sitting in the Fred’s dog pool, trying to stay cool in our 100 degree summer that we’ve been having.
Dan and I are continuing to plan our future, but it’s days like this that makes me long for what we should have had.