I’ve decided I’m tired of confusing myself by having two dates to check progress against and that I’m actually at 14 weeks, as per the EDD given by the midwife. That’ll probably change once I have a scan, and I know I won’t fuss about going over until I actually reach 42 weeks, because I don’t know, but for now we’ll go with that little spindle the midwife uses, and assume we’re at 14 weeks.
This week has been a busy one. We’ve travelled a lot, we’ve revisited places Mommy lived when I was growing up, and your sister decided she no longer naps during the day, which has been thoroughly exhausting for me, and I truly hope is just a phase.
I’ve struggled with nausea as bad as ever, and almost threw up in a shop today but fortunately I didn’t. That’s a flood gate I’m terrified of opening. I only have one tablet a day left until we go back to the UK, so I’m just hoping everything goes smoothly and the sickness starts abating. What I do know is with how sick I feel when the meds wear off, I’m so grateful I’m on them. I don’t know if I’d have made it through this time. It feels aggressive, and it’s always knocking on the door like waves relentlessly bashing against rocks, eased only when the tide is out â€“ in other words when I’ve just taken the pill.
I realised this week that in being sick and travelling I’ve been remiss in my thoughts about your birth, or what I want for it. There’s so much to think about. I know I’m having a home water birth again, if all goes to plan. I’ve booked it, and I have the birth pool. I need to buy a new liner, and perhaps update my music playlist, but there’s loads more to do, and I think it’s time for me to start planning for it now.
I was in a clothes shop today too, and while I was cooing over the girl’s clothes, my eyes kept wandering over to the boy’s clothes. I can’t wait to know what you are, but we’ve decided to keep it a surprise again, so we won’t know till you’re in our arms.Â (And the thought of you in our arms is wonderful and sends little thrills up my spine. I can’t wait to hold you. )
I sometimes lie in bed at night with my hands over my tightly pulled belly and I wonder about you. I try to feel you moving, and I try to imagine what you look like right now and who you’ll grow up to be.
Just as I never want your sister to be my trial run, I never want you to feel second best, or less loved. Even now, as I think of you, having never seen you, I feel excitement mounting within me at the thought of another life coming to share ours, blessing us by choosing us. We are so honoured, baby. We are so honoured.
They say you’re about 9cm long now, which seems really big to me, but might explain why my jeans are getting tight (or that might be the lots of driving and not doing much physical at the moment!) Apparently though, you can already grimace and frown and make other facial expressions, which does sound rather sweet.Â You can even suck your thumb already. Oh, and apparently you wee into your amniotic fluid â€“ don’t worry the thought of swimming in your wee for six months will really gross you out later, but you knowâ€¦ it’s part of this incredibly flawed and wonderful journey into humanity.
I wish pregnancy gave us a see-through hatch, like those glass bottomed boats, so that we could peer inside and check up on our babies, because I just want to catch a glimpse of you, and make sure you’re doing okay.
Love you, Squidgy.