You’re getting big now. In the last week I feel like I’ve popped right out. Perhaps now I’ll start putting on some weight! I caught up with a friend today. She’s two weeks ahead of me, and 10kg heavier than she was when she began. I felt bad telling her I had no extra kilos to account for as yet.
You’ve been moving around like mad. You seemed to particularly enjoy our French class on Wednesday night. And Mozart tonight seemed to take your fancy too. Either that or the sheer pretention of both of those activities have forced you to lash out on your poor Mum – I’m hoping it’s the former.
Your Dad has downloaded music for you and bought some headphones for you, well … for my belly. I think it’s nice for him to have something to do for you. At this stage, the kicks are just moments between me and you. As much as I try, you just won’t kick when your Dad puts his hand on you – or at least not hard enough for him to feel. And I think he wants to feel you. I’ve noticed a shift in him since I popped out a bit. He’s more attentive to you, rubbing you more, talking to you more. It’s really quite lovely. It’s actually starting to feel very special.
Last week we bought a rocking chair for your room, and this weekend we bought wall decorations. It’s really starting to happen. And in two weeks we find out if you’re a boy or girl! I now can’t decide what I think you are. I just hope you’re healthy, that’s all I can ask.
I’m still getting morning sickness, but at least my horrendous cold has abated now, and the morning sickness seems to finally have restricted itself to the mornings. It’s amazing how much better life is when you’re not feeling sick. All of a sudden I’m enjoying work and my French classes again. It’s wonderful. I only hope I keep feeling this way.
As for you, you’re just going to keep growing now. I read somewhere that you get a protective film around you this week. It protects your nerves, and stops you from coming out all wrinkly and over-cooked looking. So I guess that’s a good thing!
I have to admit, the you coming out thing is starting to play on my mind. I’ve been watching One Born Every Minute – a show that depicts birth in all its glory. Now, I know it’s going to be painful, but seeing the sheer reality of it, the undignified poses, the standing around with your arse hanging out of a backless gown … it’s made me feel very wary of the whole process. Of course, I wouldn’t do it for a camera, but still. All I can hope is that it goes as smoothly as possible. I know I’m going to scream, I know fuck will probably be one of the first words you hear in this world, but I know it will all be worth it. Because, I can’t wait to meet you and, if I’m honest, I can’t wait to have a glass of champagne, some soft cheese and maybe a bit of ham to celebrate your birth, and my ability to eat for one again! I know the champagne is a bit of a no-no when you’re breast feeding, but I figure pushing a baby out of my vagina entitles me to some bubbles!
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