Dear baby girl,

Well, you’re on the move, aren’t you? I feel you rolling around all the time, with your little bottom sticking out from my lower stomach. It’s quite funny, and a little uncomfortable. I feel like I have to stop and allow you to roll, rather than keep going about my business.

This week has been a good week though. My diabetes levels have been down (apart from a few discreet pieces of vanilla slice that set me over), I’m not as tired and I’m enjoying work. They have employed someone to take over my job, which has made me incredibly happy and more relaxed I think.

How it all began: Peeing on a stick

And you? It seems like it’s all about getting fat and practising swallowing and sucking – which would go some way to explain all the hiccups you seem to be getting. They don’t feel like hiccups so much as rhythmic flutters, but they’re quite amusing, and one of the rare opportunities for people to feel you – you seem to stop kicking for anyone but me!

On the flipside, the person I’m friends with at pregnant yoga (or as I like to call it, fatty yoga) has turned to the dark side. She has been positive the whole way through while I complained. It’s funny how quickly one can transform. All it took was some stomach muscle separation and the knowledge that her baby girl is huge, and she is miserable. The poor girl. Although, it’s refreshing to not be the only one finding it difficult.

Speaking of difficult, I saw the diabetes doctor this week. It appears that all is good, and they don’t want to put me on insulin. In fact, she didn’t seem worried about me at all. She said that I’m a very rare type of patient (which I took to mean I’m not a fatty who binges on fast food every night of the week). Unfortunately, the weight is still dropping off, which is a bit worrying (hence, the vanilla slice this weekend), but nobody seems concerned apart from your Gran. She’s worried I’ll be so thin I’ll have no energy for labour and child-rearing. I figure that’s just something I’ll have to do so I’ll find the energy somewhere.

Anyway, let’s continue the good form, missy. Only seven more weeks of work to go, and eight weeks or so until I meet you. Suddenly it seems to be happening very quickly, while also feeling like an eternity … that might have something to do with my inability to move as readily though!

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