Archive for July 24th, 2009

11. (ish)

July 24, 2009

Eleven days till the babies are full term. (Well, eleven by the dating scan, twelve by reality of when they were conceived.)

Eleven days till all the months of worry about preterm labour are erased and we can celebrate our good luck, my hydration vigilance, and the bedrest.

I can’t quite believe it.

Thank you, universe. Seriously.


Another day, another dollar. Pregnancy symptoms, let me hear you holla!

July 24, 2009

Ah, Friday. The end to another week.

I now have (yes, folks, time for another edition of ….. Count the Complaints!!): utterly crippling SPD…perhaps more details later, an asshole completely textured like the surface of Mars due to all the hemorrhoids, fingers that no longer work as I have been diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome from all the swelling, magic feet that go purple the instant I am upright and flesh coloured when I lie back down, funky wrists, stretch marks from here to eternity,  tightenings that take my breath away when I am upright, 60 extra pounds,  and a bump that just won’t quit – and a nice, pricky rash on it that feels like I am constantly being stung by a hoard of angry bees.

You know what I say to these things? FUCK YOU, buddies, because I’m going to have babies!!

That’s right. Two healthy, funny, squishy, fat little babies who will love me even though my stomach will be down to my knees and I am likely to be pooping blood for about ten years. BABIES. Real live babies.

You, babies, are both very very wiggly. I don’t know about all this stuff saying you feel babies less the closer you are to term, because you are BOTH hugely moving, hiccuping, punching, and gyrating to your internal disco beat. You both seem to be awake a lot of the time, and are often both moving at the same time. Sometimes it makes me feel a little bit surprised and stuff, but that’s okay.

I’m trying to be zen about the birth but failing miserably. I got a leaflet in the mail today entitled ‘I want my baby but I don’t want to be at the birth!’ Yes, exactly that. After months of praying they stay put for health reasons, I am now praying they stay put because I can’t bear imagining the alternative.  Though I worry, worry, worry about TMD being able to finish her dissertation, I am hoping that there is only three weeks left.

I am worried I did myself some baaaaaaaaaad damage to the ol’ symphasis pubic joint last night, and unfortunately it wasn’t even doing anything fun! And speaking of fun (babies, avert your eyes), if they are in a position for a natural delivery, TMD and I are going to get jiggy with it like mad cowboys from week 37. Even though that sounds like the least appealing thing ever on offer. We will get them out!