Wednesday, 29 February 2012

The Bump Finds its Feet Whilst Mine Vanish

I saw a great t-shirt on, I dunno, maybe Amazon last week.  It read "Hi there, have you seen my feet?"  The belly is so enormous tonight I'm not even going to do a bump photo.  That would entail getting up off the sofa.  So, we're twenty weeks to go and I think my days of late night working are over for now.  Was in Glasgow last night for a work thing and got home at ten which in a previous life I might have considered reasonable.  The bones however, no longer find this type of behaviour, or any prolonged walking for that matter, acceptable.  I was so sore when I finally got in my scratcher that I woke up every time I tried to roll over.  Coupled with the bathroom trips and wacky dreams it was a supremely unsatisfying night of broken sleep.

Speaking of wacky dreams actually, I'll elaborate.  Haven't graced you with the true extent of my personal brand of bonkers for a while now.  So, in last night's epic fiasco MC and I were renting a wee flat very like one I stayed in for a while over in Parkgrove.  This flat however, was underground.  Of course, I hear you sigh, because so much of Edinburgh's private rented accommodation is subterranean.  MC and I returned home in the dream to find the landlord (think Del-Boy) wielding power tools and generally knocking the flat to pieces.  We had to move while pregnant and quickly, because he was taking out the spiral staircase that provided access!  It all got very stressful and then I woke up overjoyed to remember that we own our own home and I only have to deal with the occasional unreasonable landlord in my professional life.

Some things, little things, make up for all the night-time bathroom shuffling, the brilliant bonkers dreams and the achey tailbone.  Little things, like a very small hand or an itty bitty foot poking your insides.  A week past Monday, after my late bendy stretchy session, I was lying in bed enjoying the feel of just being.  Well, that is to say I was enjoying the just being horizontal - it's my very favourite type of being in general at the moment.  (My spirituality is heading off to join the tumbleweed in my desert of insanity as I write tonight people, stay with me just a little longer.)  It was then that I felt that first distinct kick.  Not a bubble or a flutter or a roll, a kick.  I must have appeared momentarily stunned as MC asked if I was feeling well.  I declared I'd been kicked but was otherwise fine.  We snuggled and MC wanted to try to feel it too.  I pressed two of his fingers into the skin where I'd felt the jab but suspected that he wouldn't feel anything because I'd read that it can take weeks for your partner to share the experience.  Not everything you read is true.  Munchkin continued to give me and MC's fingers by extension a good beating for a few minutes before going off for a snooze or maybe to play with its fist or umbilical cord.  A switch has been flicked.  I can feel munchkin regularly.  It particularly likes to attack the waistband of any clothing I might happen to be wearing.  It parties twenty minutes after any meal and has boogie time between 10 and 11pm most evenings.

That wasn't the last of the ups from last week though.  MC and I went to Dunblane Hydro for our babymoon.  I've never had a massage before and it was very nice.  I definitely had one or two 'ah, bisto' moments.  MC did a lot of reading and I napped a lot between meals.  The food was generally impressive but the puddings were numptious.  We were only away for two days but it was very satisfying to be in an environment where you can't do much but chill out and relax.  For two days it was fine that our bathroom wasn't clean, that the laundry was amassing or that the dishwasher might need emptying.  Two days of being able to be horizontal at anytime of the day without reproach or guilt.  Lovely. 

Just so you don't feel cheated, and because I did promise, I'll share my down of the week.  I went to the dentist for teeth cleaning.  He begged me to use his electric sander thingy (which he got me to the appointment promising he wouldn't do on account of my ridiculously sensitive teeth) and agreed to scale my teeth manually.  His take on being gentle left my tongue, upper and lower gums, front and back, punctured and bleeding in several places.  Next time he tells me my teeth are fine but could do with a scale and polish, I plan to smile sweetly and tell him you have to learn to take the rough with the smooth if you get to the close of your twenties without a filling.  He can stick his power tools and instruments of torture in some other plonker who's paying for the privilege of being stabbed in the name of aesthetic dentistry.  I will take myself to the chemist for a whitening kit!

Other than the evil dentist visit I can't complain.  Spring is here.  My garden is tulipless because I was remiss with my green fingers due to early pregnancy hibernation last autumn but I left for work and returned home today in daylight and it was so pleasurable an experience I forgot to miss the tulips.  Mr Sainsbury may be able to save the day with the grown elsewhere variety. 

Life is good, and tomorrow, just so MC and I can spend the next 4 months trying to agree on a name in our usual indecisive fashion, we just might find out if munchkin is a boy or a girl.  Watch this space!   

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