So since the last lot of stress, everything seems to be going fine. The little one is kicking like a trooper (read: it hurts like a mo’fo at times) I am getting progressively fatter by the day (sort of maybe, I’m not sure) and things are happening the way they should (ie: I am not having my baby yet).
On the subject of getting progressively fatter, here’s the thing: I don’t really feel that much bigger than I was a fortnight ago. Actually, I don’t feel any bigger. I know from my last appointment that I was measuring small (nearly a month behind where my uterus should be).
I’m not that fussed about it considering I measured small with Amy during the entire pregnancy – I went and found my antenatal records for her pregnancy and I measured anywhere between 1 and 6 weeks behind at any given appointment – so I think that this pregnancy is probably going to follow in the same vein.
I can tell you that the baby is DEFINTELY getting bigger if his pokiness is anything to go by. Naughty poky baby.
He is grounded by the way. No ice cream, chocolate or lollies for him for a year after he arrives. Not to mention he won’t be allowed out to party with his friends or given access to the car keys either.
And anyway the less chocolate my children eat the more there is for me.
*****
It’s hot.
October is not meant to be a hot month. Warm, yes, but not hot. Not 30C hot (that is 86F for all you Americans. Seriously, when are you going to convert to the metric system like civilised people?)
I’m quite pleased though, for all the heat that we put up with yesterday, my ankles didn’t swell even a little. So proud. Who knew that one could be proud of her ankles? But I am. No water retention over here.
Now watch Murphy shoot me down in flames and make me swell like a balloon for the next 12 weeks.
Heh.
Amy has done quite well with the heat. Helps that she is only 2 and can run around naked without anyone looking at her oddly (although, I wonder would Nathan have a problem if I adopted Amy’s approach? Maybe the belly would mess with the aesthetics of it though…).
She has discovered the joys of icypoles. Unfortunately she is finicky as hell and hates being sticky. 2yo + icypoles + heat = lots of sticky water and an incredibly pissed toddler.
‘Wash HANDS mummy! Wash HANDS NOW please?’
‘Baff time? Yes? Now? Please baff time? Need baff Mummy!’ (Bath)
‘Need novver one? Can haff novver one please?’
Sigh.
*****
Signs I am not having enough sex:
I found a spider lurking in my cleavage. Thank god he was only small. Now I’m thinking though, it’s been much too long since Nat and I ‘got it together’ if I’m finding spiders in my boobs. What’s next, cobwebs in my underwear?
Seriously though, it’s been WEEKS, possibly even MONTHS. We made the executive decision to not have sex after the first scare with the baby (but hadn’t gotten around to it for weeks before that anyway). Recurrent issues have shown us that we did indeed make the right choice. The last thing my cervix needs is any kind of bumping.
However, I’m thinking that our decision might just kill us in the long run. Sure there are plenty of other things we could do, none of which involve my cervix, but seriously, creativity is not my strong point when I am pregnant.
And then there is the whole reciprocating thing. Sigh.
It’s all just too much work you know?
****
Oh yes, I am working on a birth plan to share with everyone eventually and I will get Nathan to take a belly shot soonish to share too. Okay?
{ Comments on this entry are closed }