Yesterday we learned that Tempest hates dried cherries. Not enough to cause immediate digestive evacuation, mind you, but enough so that somehow my digestive system set them aside for the better part of six hours, and then evacuated them. By themselves. Nothing but dried cherries and water came back up, just before dinner last night. I have no idea how this is physiologically possible, but I swear it happened.
He has also finally discovered that there is more to his little uterine home than the area just above my pelvis. Now he's stretching and pressing against the area where his umbilical cord attaches to the placenta (once again: this one's placenta is located at the top center of my uterus. The cord attaches on my right side.) He's still moving strong, but his movements are thankfully losing momentum as he fills the space more and more. For this small favor, I am extremely grateful.
This morning I went up to the Little Hospital for the most-evil-blood-test-ever: The glucose tolerance test. The orange goo isn't as gooey as it was when I was pregnant with Pooka, thank goodness, but it's still WAY more sugary than anyone should reasonably have to ingest. I sat around the waiting room for an hour; my brain buzzing irritably from the sugar high; and then the phlebotomist didn't take enough blood out of my arm after having jabbed me more painfully than anyone has in a long time. So I got a second "pick" about a millimeter above the first, and even that one had to be "adjusted." Needless to say, my arm is sore. Pleh.
On the plus side: I'm almost seven months pregnant, and not only can I bike 8 miles a day, but I can still tie my shoes by myself! BOO-YAH!
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