get out. get out. get out.

Our tiny bean has grown. If she doesn't stop soon, there will be no where left for her to live but in my head and arms and legs. I went to my monthly weigh in (I mean, midwife appointment) and was assured that her growth is normal, but I'm beginning to have my doubts. I feel like I ate a whole Thanksgiving by myself. 8 weeks, and I'm giving her an eviction notice. But for now baby, stay in. Stay in. Stay in.