27 weeks for baby, 27 years for me

Today is my 27th birthday and I'm 27 weeks pregnant. It's almost as if that were planned (it wasn't). 27 is actually quite a milestone (for baby, not for me) because this is the time when his lungs develop. That means that if something were to happen and I had to deliver right now, my son would have a good chance of surviving outside the womb. Apparently, being able to breathe is the secret to making it in this world.

Not that he's expected any time soon. Not until at least February 5th (my due date), and judging by the tardy, womb-loving kids in my family, likely not for a week or so after that.

Because I really can't wait that long to see him, tommorrow morning baby and I will be enjoying one of my b-day presents: a 3D ultrasound! (By 3D, I of course mean you can actually tell it's a baby and not, put on goofy red and blue glasses and it looks like the kid is floating in front of your face). I'm supposed to be well hydrated so that my ambiotic fluid isn't all murky, so today I'm drinking lots and peeing lots.

Some people don't like birthdays but I love 'em. I've feeling kind of hormonal today (my zits are back) and so I'm extra looking forward to an evening of cake and prezzies and all-about-me.