Week 25 snapshot
Hunger rating: 20/10 Yep – I’m still famished. It’s just that I can’t seem to put away as big servings as I want to (the trick is to wait 20 minutes and then recommence eating!)
Cravings: Avocadoes – meh. Give me sugar ALL the time
Body image: Generally ok, depending on if I spot or am shown a current photo of myself or not. I have definitely put on weight in places other than my belly and boobies (have gone from size 12 on a very good day to size 16 with size 18 knockin’ on that door). But my stomach is pleasingly round and I definitely look pregnant – there’s no mistaking that now. I’ve found the key to stopping my self esteem from plummeting too far is to dress properly every day – by that I mean planning and coordinating outfits, and always doing my hair and make up. Ah, the restorative power of a good slick of lippy
Average number of times per night where I need to get up and go wee: 3. It’s back with a vengeance – after a blissful 8 or so weeks of sleeping through the night, my bladder seems to have shrunk to the size of a pea. During the day it is worse – sometimes I’ll be visiting the loo 3 or 4 times an hour with only an extremely disappointing 10 ml dribble to show for it
Out of breath: More than usual – climbing a set of two flight stairs makes me tired and short of breath
So I’m now just over six months’ pregnant. Hooray, I’ve made it to the third trimester, but I’m now starting to realise that I’ve been coasting a bit. The second trimester I have to admit, I felt pretty great (despite the blog moaning, which of course was purely for entertainment and comic value for YOU, dear reader). I was able to get lots of sleep, enjoyed glowing skin, thick hair and long nails, with the thought of labour and that horrifying birth stuff a mere indiscernible speck in the distance.
Now, I’m sorry to say, things have changed a bit. Of course, I shouldn’t complain really – despite warnings from other women who have BEEN THROUGH IT, I still haven’t had any indigestion or constipation to speak of.* However, the first thing I have noticed to jump ship is my sleeping comfort (and I’m not talking about missing lying on my stomach either – we’re way past that now, people). I just cannot seem to get comfortable lying in bed. Turn to my left, turn to my right, try as I might, things just don’t seem to work anymore. So PD and I went out and bought a special pregnancy pillow for me. It’s called a DreamGenii and, I’m reliably informed, simply the pregnant woman’s sleep saviour. Just because it’s easier for me to show you what it looks like than describe its odd shape, here’s a pic for ya:
Anyway, I have used it a few times, but not every single night. This is because it has a tendency to make me very hot and therefore sweaty. You basically have to hug and straddle the thing as if it is your beloved ALL night. It’s made of synthetic foam for goodness sake, despite a 100% cotton cover. Turning over to the other side also necessitates waking oneself up and physically flipping the DreamGenii (accompanied by the beeping sounds of lorries reversing at the same time, given that hauling oneself to one’s knees at 3am when 6 months gravid generally feels like it requires you warn those in the immediate vicinity of large objects in motion). Of course, once the DreamGenii (DG from now on) has been reversed, you may as well get up properly and go to the toilet, seeing as you’re already awake and suddenly feel the urge like you might burst if you don’t go. Now that this has been accomplished, and, I’m sorry to say, by this point I have turned on the air conditioner on my way past the switch (amazing what sorts of things you can achieve in the middle of the night) PD has woken up due to the sound of its roar as it lumbers to life, and all the messing about and fussing on the other side of the bed with pillows and things, plus my accompanying groans and noises of effort. So, whilst I accept that the DG will probably be my best inanimate object friend in the coming months, I fear that the cosy haven that was once our marital bed will never be the same again. (Yes, I know it definitely won’t but I need to grieve for its loss).
The other thing that’s been keeping me awake and giving me sudden gasping intakes of breath when I think about it is the thought of the birth itself. In my mind, the words, THE BIRTH are in 40 foot high, three dimensional concrete letters (a bit like the way the title sequence of Python’s The Life of Brian appears), heralded by the opening choral bars of Orff’s O Fortuna
Yes, I know women have been doing it for all time, I’m not the first and I won’t be the last, but this baby in my belly is here now and its gotta come out somehow! Antenatal classes start next week and I’m seriously considering using hypnobirthing as a coping strategy. I’ll let you know how that goes in my next missive.
Until then…xx
*OK lads, this is my first disclaimer. It’s going to get more messy than this and even more frank from here on in. If you don’t like it, you feel squeamish or are just too weak to face the ugly truth of it – get off this blog. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
