Just 11 weeks to go until the little man makes an appearance(hopefully…), and you know a certain stage has been reached when you start counting down rather than up.
The baby is now the size of a coconut, which word has now taken the place of ‘Olive’ as his official nickname, since we’re not making a final decision on the name until he’s born.
I’m still feeling good, although I can’t deny that the simple daily grind is getting steadily more challenging each week, and I’m becoming highly aware of my own growing physical limitations.
Walking anywhere is a much slower process (I’ve gone from being a fast-paced overtaker to one of the dreaded dawdlers…), sleeping comfortably is a challenge, and as for getting up from the sofa without a helping hand or a dramatic, multi-stage tai-chi performance….forget it!
Another strange pregnancy side effect over the last few weeks has been that I seem to have turned into Mr Bean.
Dropping things, crashing into things and general slapstick comedy punctuate my days now.
This is okay however, because I have also developed a serious case of the giggles. It must be the hormones, but a lot of things are hysterically funny at the moment – I honestly don’t think I’ve laughed so much since I was a teenager.
The things that amuse me are not always funny to anyone else.
The baby is now the size of a coconut, which word has now taken the place of ‘Olive’ as his official nickname, since we’re not making a final decision on the name until he’s born.
I’m still feeling good, although I can’t deny that the simple daily grind is getting steadily more challenging each week, and I’m becoming highly aware of my own growing physical limitations.
Walking anywhere is a much slower process (I’ve gone from being a fast-paced overtaker to one of the dreaded dawdlers…), sleeping comfortably is a challenge, and as for getting up from the sofa without a helping hand or a dramatic, multi-stage tai-chi performance….forget it!
Another strange pregnancy side effect over the last few weeks has been that I seem to have turned into Mr Bean.
Dropping things, crashing into things and general slapstick comedy punctuate my days now.
This is okay however, because I have also developed a serious case of the giggles. It must be the hormones, but a lot of things are hysterically funny at the moment – I honestly don’t think I’ve laughed so much since I was a teenager.
The things that amuse me are not always funny to anyone else.
 |
| Pocket Hippo in action |
For example, one of the minutiae of our daily lives is ‘Pocket Hippo’.
This is literally a small plastic hippo, some kind of Kinder Egg toy, that Seb has had for untold years. I remember first finding it many moons ago when I was doing laundry.
‘What on earth is this?’, I said, puzzled. ‘Oh, that’s Pocket Hippo. He lives in my pocket,’ stated my husband matter-of-factly (this wonderful randomness, dear reader, is part of his charm). It just became an accepted part of life in our household, one of those unquestioned background objects that form part of our story.
In the last few weeks, Pocket Hippo has been making multiple reappearances, usually where I least expect him.
Propped up on my pillow. Balanced on the handle of my tea mug. Perched on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
For some reason, I find this hysterically funny, especially Seb’s blanket denial of any knowledge of Pocket Hippo’s movements. The more merriment, the more it encourages him. I don’t think Seb has ever felt like such a comic genius, so that’s nice for him.
Despite energy being in shorter supply, I am still continuing with the gym, although admittedly I don’t do much more than a bit of gentle cross training, stationary bike, and walking on a gradient. My goal is to go until 7 months, which is in sight now. I want to keep active, and I’m also reluctant to get out of the habit of exercise entirely.
Work continues to be busy, and the realisation that my time left here can be measured in weeks (8 of them) has been a scary one.
I know the wheels won’t fall off if I’m not there, but that can be hard to imagine when I can’t even take a day off where I want one for press announcements and events. I even had to go in on my 30th birthday a few days ago, when I’d planned to take it off. There’s no sign of any recruitment for my cover yet, so its bound to be an omnishambles.
Yes, I slipped in that I turned 30 on June 1st. I’m one of those that doesn’t like getting older and is determined to age disgracefully, so I was sort of dreading the day, until I thought – hold up – what am I
complaining about?
I have everything I could possibly have wanted at this age, especially with the little man on the way, so I resolved to just shut up and count my blessings. Perhaps the only thing I haven’t achieved that I wanted to was writing a novel, but there’s always retirement for that!
The day was not marked by wild partying, of course. As Monday is the most rubbish of all days to have a birthday, we celebrated the weekend before. We went on a date night to see an Indiana gig. She is an incredible performer live and we highly enjoyed seeing her again, even if I did have to stand way at the back to protect bump.
The gig venue was a rock club where we both mis-spent a lot of our youth – collectively and together – and where I first saw Seb, although not where I met him (that honour goes to a bus, romantically
enough). It was the scene of that awkward ‘Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?’ conversation and lots of good times with friends, so I had to smile at being back there as a married couple with a baby on
the way!
The next day, we went to Colwick Hall for afternoon tea which was delicious and very civilised. On the way, we passed lines of ravers in the park queuing up for a dubstep festival. Ironically, that was me last year, when I went to the same festival. What a difference a year makes!
I’ve also been working on my ‘baby bucket lists’, which I plan to share with you here on the blog.
There’s two - one of fun stuff I would like to do before he gets here and leaving the house becomes a distant dream, and one of practical stuff and big chores that need to be completed. I’ve started buying items for my hospital bag as well.
His nursery is coming along nicely – all painted and wallpapered, there’s just a few smaller bits to buy for it. I feel funny about having it all set up too far in advance, so we haven’t put any furniture in yet.
Seb also decided now was the perfect time to begin decorating the hall, which is the only bit of the house with the dreaded woodchip wallpaper left in! I was tempted to leave it until afterwards, but ever the keen spirit, he started pulling it off the other weekend, so the house is back to looking like a complete danger zone again.
Finally, I’ve been a bit ill the past week. I’m still not sure what the matter was, but I started feeling very light-headed and nauseous last Friday.
Initially we thought it was because I skipped breakfast, but it continued to crop up, especially when I’d eaten anything. I went to bed at 7pm on Friday but woke up at midnight and 4am feeling really sick (but didn’t actually throw up). I felt grim all weekend. Just dizzy and unwell.
I bought some Gaviscon which has helped a little with the sickness, but I probably should let the midwife know.
Its so hard to tell what’s standard and what could be bad news. I just hope its not related to diabetes. I was supposed to have a screening at the hospital (I’m classed as high risk because my dad is diabetic), but I managed to ruin everything by eating a bowl of cornflakes before the test when you’re supposed to fast (baby brain strikes again!), so they’ve had to reschedule for the end of the month.
Anyway, life waddles on… thats about all for now, so I'll report back soon.
This is literally a small plastic hippo, some kind of Kinder Egg toy, that Seb has had for untold years. I remember first finding it many moons ago when I was doing laundry.
‘What on earth is this?’, I said, puzzled. ‘Oh, that’s Pocket Hippo. He lives in my pocket,’ stated my husband matter-of-factly (this wonderful randomness, dear reader, is part of his charm). It just became an accepted part of life in our household, one of those unquestioned background objects that form part of our story.
In the last few weeks, Pocket Hippo has been making multiple reappearances, usually where I least expect him.
Propped up on my pillow. Balanced on the handle of my tea mug. Perched on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
For some reason, I find this hysterically funny, especially Seb’s blanket denial of any knowledge of Pocket Hippo’s movements. The more merriment, the more it encourages him. I don’t think Seb has ever felt like such a comic genius, so that’s nice for him.
Despite energy being in shorter supply, I am still continuing with the gym, although admittedly I don’t do much more than a bit of gentle cross training, stationary bike, and walking on a gradient. My goal is to go until 7 months, which is in sight now. I want to keep active, and I’m also reluctant to get out of the habit of exercise entirely.
Work continues to be busy, and the realisation that my time left here can be measured in weeks (8 of them) has been a scary one.
I know the wheels won’t fall off if I’m not there, but that can be hard to imagine when I can’t even take a day off where I want one for press announcements and events. I even had to go in on my 30th birthday a few days ago, when I’d planned to take it off. There’s no sign of any recruitment for my cover yet, so its bound to be an omnishambles.
Yes, I slipped in that I turned 30 on June 1st. I’m one of those that doesn’t like getting older and is determined to age disgracefully, so I was sort of dreading the day, until I thought – hold up – what am I
complaining about?
I have everything I could possibly have wanted at this age, especially with the little man on the way, so I resolved to just shut up and count my blessings. Perhaps the only thing I haven’t achieved that I wanted to was writing a novel, but there’s always retirement for that!
The day was not marked by wild partying, of course. As Monday is the most rubbish of all days to have a birthday, we celebrated the weekend before. We went on a date night to see an Indiana gig. She is an incredible performer live and we highly enjoyed seeing her again, even if I did have to stand way at the back to protect bump.
The gig venue was a rock club where we both mis-spent a lot of our youth – collectively and together – and where I first saw Seb, although not where I met him (that honour goes to a bus, romantically
enough). It was the scene of that awkward ‘Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?’ conversation and lots of good times with friends, so I had to smile at being back there as a married couple with a baby on
the way!
The next day, we went to Colwick Hall for afternoon tea which was delicious and very civilised. On the way, we passed lines of ravers in the park queuing up for a dubstep festival. Ironically, that was me last year, when I went to the same festival. What a difference a year makes!
I’ve also been working on my ‘baby bucket lists’, which I plan to share with you here on the blog.
There’s two - one of fun stuff I would like to do before he gets here and leaving the house becomes a distant dream, and one of practical stuff and big chores that need to be completed. I’ve started buying items for my hospital bag as well.
His nursery is coming along nicely – all painted and wallpapered, there’s just a few smaller bits to buy for it. I feel funny about having it all set up too far in advance, so we haven’t put any furniture in yet.
Seb also decided now was the perfect time to begin decorating the hall, which is the only bit of the house with the dreaded woodchip wallpaper left in! I was tempted to leave it until afterwards, but ever the keen spirit, he started pulling it off the other weekend, so the house is back to looking like a complete danger zone again.
Finally, I’ve been a bit ill the past week. I’m still not sure what the matter was, but I started feeling very light-headed and nauseous last Friday.
Initially we thought it was because I skipped breakfast, but it continued to crop up, especially when I’d eaten anything. I went to bed at 7pm on Friday but woke up at midnight and 4am feeling really sick (but didn’t actually throw up). I felt grim all weekend. Just dizzy and unwell.
I bought some Gaviscon which has helped a little with the sickness, but I probably should let the midwife know.
Its so hard to tell what’s standard and what could be bad news. I just hope its not related to diabetes. I was supposed to have a screening at the hospital (I’m classed as high risk because my dad is diabetic), but I managed to ruin everything by eating a bowl of cornflakes before the test when you’re supposed to fast (baby brain strikes again!), so they’ve had to reschedule for the end of the month.
Anyway, life waddles on… thats about all for now, so I'll report back soon.
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