Small and mighty

I said yesterday that the doctor kept apologizing that the baby was 17 weeks instead of 21. What made it so weird is that I kept saying that it wasn't entirely unexpected. My cycles were irregular because I was still nursing Silas, they were irregular even without nursing. 21 weeks was, in my mind an upper limit of how far along I am. He kept re-measuring the femur and saying things like "17 weeks and 5 days is the best I can do." I kept saying things like "The baby's going to be born whenever it's ready regardless of how you measure it, so it doesn't make a difference to me." The bad news is he didn't really seem to listen to me. But he seemed friendly and laid back.
I don't remember seeing the baby's spine with Silas's ultrasounds, it was kind of creepy. But at least we didn't see that weird alien baby face as we did before. The kid is moving though. Like a little womb break dancer, kicking, punching, twisting. I guess the fact that I had just downed a chicken sandwich and fries in the waiting room (did I mention the three hour wait?) got the baby a little hopped up.
I was kind of jazzed about the fact I was 5 months pregnant and had only gained 8 pounds and could still wear my regular clothes. But now that it's only 4 months, I guess it's a little more normal. And now we'll have to think a little harder about whether we'll want to travel home for Christmas with a 1 month old.