Little has been a trooper through all of this too. He is very conscious of my needs and in his mind it is a cardinal sin even on my good days not to have a "gooka bucket"--as he calls any of my many emergency buckets I keep throughout the house--near me at all times. He's also taken to comforting me when I am in the throes of baby sickness, only I use the term "comforting" very loosely. Basically, I end up over a bucket and he ends up crawling up my back and holding on like a monkey (choking optional) or riding the "mommy horsey" until I am done with the "gookas." A bit uncomfortable, but it makes me want to laugh more than cry, so I'm counting it as a win.
Little prays for the baby every night (he can almost say a prayer all by himself now, which we are so so proud of him for) and rubs my tummy with a "Hi, baby!" and the occasional kiss thrown in. I'm excited to see him when the baby actually comes. He's going to be a great big brother. We had a conversation the other day about the baby being safe in my tummy (he was afraid the baby was going to fall out) and he has decided--no matter how many times I tell him different--that the baby must be in a carseat inside of my tummy.
I've started feeling little flutterings down there, but the first time I felt the baby it was a bigger movement and it about scared me to death. I forgot what it feels like and I was leaning over when it happened so it made me yelp. I'm pretty sure Bryce thought I was crazy for a moment, but we laughed about it later.
So the point of all this is to say that we are still alive and kicking (for the most part).