Anybody here watched Art Attack in their youth and needs their childhood ruined/enhanced?
Week 29 today, and the baby is moving a lot. Not just kicking. I suppose it's running out of room, so I can really feel it moving - turning, doing things with its limbs. The F-word can feel from the outside too. It's lovely . . . and really timely given that I'm otherwise really sick of being pregnant - huge and tired and hungry and cranky and sickly in the morning. And at the same time rather desperately wishing to stay pregnant for the maximum time - hoping and hoping to not have to have too early a delivery - applauding each day it stays up there as a gift and a victory.
I daresay the worry about my blood pressure is making things rather worse than they could be, but I'm tempted to say that in the pantheon of "complicated" pregnancies this is a relatively uncomplicated one, so I don't know how people with actually complicated pregnancies manage. I don't know how women who work really intense full time hours manage. And I don't know God's excuse for letting men's biological contribution to this process be an orgasm. Which, since it was with me, was obviously a really terrific one.
Anyways, my point is this week the baby has got to feeling like a real baby, which is thrilling, and frightening. And makes me really, really miss my family. Understanding now why favourite-sister-in-law suggested I have the baby in Canada. But for all my complaints during the week of panic a couple of weeks back, I'm actually quite pleased with the level of care I'm getting here, and the outlook of my midwife. And while it would be nice to have a lot of family nearby during these times, I'm quite sure the F-word will be a terrific push-partner. Depending on how things go, I'm less committed to the idea of not having my next baby here. We'll see.