It seems as though it has taken an age to reach the 30 week milestone. But finally, I’m here. It’s been a slow, lumbering journey this last few weeks. This pregnancy has been very different from my last. I feel like I've hit the wall earlier this time, I’m really tired. Here are the headlines:
Mind the Bump
Friends, family (and complete strangers for that matter) appear to think my bump is huge. I’m past caring. As long as there is a healthy baby inside, I’m not bothered how big I look. Truth be told, I’ve got to the point where I find it rather amusing when people say; "Oooh, look at the size of you. You must be ready to drop any day now.", because it gives me the opportunity to say; "No, actually, I’ve still got another 10 weeks" and watch the reaction on their faces. Some just stand and stare in amazement, others back track with slightly embarrassed comments. It’s definitely a bigger bump than the one I had with Pip. That said, when the midwife measured me this week, everything was bang on average for size, so maybe it’s just perception, or the way I’m carrying. Either way, I look like I’ve swallowed an over sized football.
The Disco Kid
It turns out that EB is already like his brother in one respect. He loves a late night party. Well past midnight? Then it’s time to shake out the moves and party like it’s 2012. This makes me slightly apprehensive, even before Pip was born, his late night shenanigans made me fear that he would be a bad sleeper. And I was right, he wasn’t a good sleeper and never has been. Clearly, all babies are not the same, but I was hoping this one might be a bit better. Now I’m not so sure, perhaps it's just the reoccuring sense of deja vu. I guess time will tell...
I. am. exhausted. For the last two weeks I have been suffering from terrible insomnia. And if it’s not that, it’s night leg cramps, feeling too hot, feeling dehydrated or getting up countless times to deliver another thimble sized deposit of wee into the toilet. Husband has decamped to the spare room. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to sleep next to me either right now, I’m not a good bedfellow.
Despite the tiredness, I am focused on getting the house ready for our new arrival. It’s a tricky one, as we did not expect to be at Faulty Towers by the time EB was born - we were supposed to be moved out and mid - demolition and rebuild. But, for reasons that should probably be the subject of another post, we’re still going to be here. Having lived in a house with bare light bulbs and minimal curtains for the past two years, just 'putting up with it', I suddenly find myself, even if it’s only to be for a short while, unable to stand it. After living with substandard blinds in our bedroom for all this time, last week I went and bought some cheap blackout curtains for the room not only to make it darker, but to keep the draft away from EB’s cot - as the only place it can go will be near the window. I can’t doubt their effectiveness, it’s just a shame that they are responsible for the multitude of bruises covering my body. It’s so dark in our bedroom now, I keep injuring myself every time I get out of bed to go to the toilet - thankfully my yelps of pain do not appear to be waking the rest of the sleeping household.
Like many mothers to be, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to plan or organise too much too early. Superstitious? Maybe. But last week, I succumbed to temptation and got my Dad to make up the cot and sorted through all of Pip’s old baby clothes. I felt I needed to do it, to start getting some level of preparation and order into place. Despite turning the house upside down, I simply cannot find a couple of things from first time around. Electric breast pump - vanished. Bassinet fabric for pram carry cot - nowhere to be seen. (I simply have to find this as an online search for a replacement indicates it will cost a small fortune.) Perhaps if I insert some longer matchsticks into my eyes during this week’s search I will find them.
The Name Game.
Have we found a name for EB yet? No, of course not. Last week after an extended perusal of the baby naming book I found a name I thought was lovely, unusual and would go with Pip’s. Tentatively, I dropped it into a conversation with my dearly beloved, only to find that he had actually had known someone with same said name. Said person was damned as being a ‘despicable person’ (strong words coming from one of the nicest men in the world). So, that’s another name crossed off the list. The quest continues...