Nineteen.

At week nineteen, baby Love is the size of a sweet potato and measures six inches from head to bum. Six inches is half of a foot, and I’m almost halfway to the end of this pregnancy. 

 
This morning I pushed Tim out of bed and announced that we would be taking our weekly pregnancy photo before I left for work. When we walked outside, I glanced around and whispered “Babe, there are people across the street watching me.” He laughed and told me “Just don’t make eye contact.” So I did my poses (purposely pretending they weren’t staring with wide eyed wonder), handed off the sweet potato to him, and told him to do something cute. He suddenly looked uncomfortable. I managed to get him to pose once, and then he pushed the potato back into my hands and franticly said in a low voice, “There is a bus full of little children coming up the street and they are ALL LAUGHING AT ME because I am hugging a sweet potato in the backyard of my house!” 

 
It was true. Our neighborhood is full of kids, and there are two bus stops on our street where they all congregate in the mornings. I’m not sure if they were laughing, but they definitely were looking.

As for me, I could hardly control the giggles as I thought about the silliness of the situation. I gave him some of his own advice “just don’t make eye contact” and snapped one more quick shot before I let him escape inside.

I wonder what it feels like to baby when I laugh. My prayer is that she enters this world with a lasting impression of her parent's laughter washing over her thoughts. 

We laugh a lot.