Trying to get Past The Jinx

So, I'm trying to shake the whole jinx thing.

"I'm going to buy this, ok?" I said, my finger poised over the "Confirm" button.

"Go right ahead." Mr. DD said, noodling away at scales on his Fender Strat. "It's the one we wanted, right?"

"No, seriously, I'm going to buy this. If I buy this, it means that we're really having a baby."

"We ARE really having a baby. Buy it."

"It's just that it's on sale and everything."

"You haven't hit the "Send" button yet? What are you waiting for?"

A few minutes silence.

"Okay, I'm really, REALLY going to buy this."

So this thing is showing up on Monday morning. It's hard to overcome the whole "jinx" thing entirely. But a bargain is a bargain, so this will be the stylish travel system that The Prawn will be cruising in come March.

O

M

G

I really just bought a baby buggy.

24w 4d

Just a bit of a belly update.

So far so good.

"What Do You Mean By That, Exactly?"

People say weird things to you when you're up the duff.

The one that's been puzzling me lately:

"Oh! You're looking well!"

This is usually something that I would associate with recovery from a major illness of some sort. So, in this context does it mean one of the following?

"Wow! You're not half as fat as I expected you to be!"

"Holy shit, you're the size of a Buick, but since you're also probably hormonal, I'm going to excercise tact and pay you a slightly unfathomable compliment in the hopes that you'll not go postal on me."

Fear The Belly

This is a truly strange journey.

Tuesday morning, I discovered that I couldn't get out of bed. Not that I was purely knackered from the weekend (I was. Staying up late with a bunch of hairy rockers and elven folk musicians can take it out of you.) but I literally couldn't get out of bed. There was a large belly in the way.

Now, it's not like I wasn't expecting The Belly. I mean, that's what happens, isn't it? You get knocked up, you get The Belly. But I think I have experienced the phenomenon known as "popping out". Monday, I woke up feeling pretty much as I have up until now- slightly swollen, but largely unchanged. Tuesday morning, however, there was suddenly an obstacle in my path to morning ablutions. And there was stretching. I can't overemphasize the stretching.

It occurred to me for the very first time that I might be having a baby.

I commented to Meg that IF takes away some of the reality from a pregnancy. It's harder to admit, even when all the signs point in your direction, that this time, possibly, it might all have gone right. Up until now, it's been a fairly abstract concept despite the disappearing waistline and increasingly vigorous kicks and jabs coming from within. But The Belly is hard to ignore. It makes buttons pop off of things and people have stopped crashing supermarket trolleys into me at Tesco. (Well, some of them have, at any rate.)

I'm coming up on 24 weeks tomorrow. All hail The Belly.

Rage

I find that there are days when my urge to destroy people are stronger than others. Today is one of those days.

It never fails to happen on a Monday morning. In the space of time between 8.30 and 10.40, I discovered the following things.

1. We left our hairdryer (brand new) at the hotel we stayed at over the weekend. So, wet hair.

2. My MIL has had an abnormal blood test- her blood isn’t clotting like it should. We don’t know what this means, but the hospital in London that she attends didn’t seem too worried about it. Wish we could feel the same.

3. My FIL does not know how to do laundry and has consequently stuck a new, stretchy maternity top as well as my Brother-in-law’s expensive Lycra biking shorts in the dryer. (I do laundry around here, but he got impatient and OBVIOUSLY waiting until morning to run the dryer would have been too much for him.) I don’t particularly have the cash to replace the top. Seeing as how MIL got the weird blood test, I decided to hold off on a lecture on clothes care.

4. Our solicitors handling our property sale are undoubtedly the most pointless people on the face of the earth at this particular moment in time. They have been sitting around picking their noses for a few weeks and neglecting to do anything relating to our sale.

5. The people currently living in the flat we are buying have decided to buy a house rather than rent. So the whole “no chain” thing that we signed on for? Not happening. If we get into that place before the Prawn is born, we’ll be lucky. My head feels like it’s about to explode.

Sorry for the vent. Had a brilliant weekend and just feel like we’ve been chucked back on the shitpile again first thing. Very demoralizing.

Just an Update

Moving right along.

Having received a summons last from the mighty NHS to attend a pre-natal clinic, I was slightly baffled. I wasn't expecting to see anyone until round about 25 weeks when I had my next appointment with my midwife. I called the hospital to ask them about the nature of the appointment and they were unable to give me an answer of any sort, saying only that my midwife or GP must have recommended it.

"You sent me an appointment notice and you don't know WHY?" I asked the nurse.

"You'll have to call your GP." she said.

Knowing instinctively that my GP would be of no help at all (their record keeping is so ineffective, the receptionists might as well just shred things the moment they reach their desks.) I just told Mr. DD that we'd better just go along to see what was up. We had to go to the Post Office anyhow.

As I suspected, the appointment was an NHS cock-up.

"Do you know why you're here?" the student midwife asked me, thinking that I hadn't heard her asking the resident specialist the same thing out in the hallway.

"Honestly, I have no idea." I told her.

So they took my blood pressure and then booted me out after scheduling my 31 week ultrasound at the beginning of January. Glad to know that the HOSPITAL WHERE I'M DUE TO GIVE BIRTH runs such a tight ship. I'm going to make sure that someone slaps a name bracelet on the Prawn as soon as her arms are clear.

Not much else going on. The Prawn is very active, especially fond of kicking me in the bladder, resulting in a little bit of weakness in that area, which is super-fun. (Considering that 3 very negligent surgeons have performed urethral dialations on me in the past in a misguided attempt to clear up Interstitial Cystitis, it's not really a huge surprise) We're still waiting with the intensity of rabid dogs for our house purchase to trundle along to it's satisfactory conclusion.

Further updates as events warrant.

ps. Is this not just a total no-brainer?