Mother knows

10 Jan

So, Pork Chop is on the move.

I can’t believe I’m in the second trimester already. 16 weeks has flown by and I’m finally getting past that ‘uhh… have you heard of Weight Watchers?’ stage to the ‘holy crap you ARE pregnant!’ stage. Which is awesome because I love the fact that I can no longer see when my bikini line needs a wax – totally de-stresses my morning AND gets me a whole pool lane to myself.

Anyway, let me just say that compared to T1, T2 totally kicks arse. I have energy. I don’t have to eat ALL THE TIME just to feel half human. I have stopped panicking at every twinge, tickle and slightly weird sensation because my brain has finally decided that it’s just going to go with whatever from now on in. Clearly, my uterus has taken charge and after a brief but bloody battle my mind has surrendered to the invader within… for the time being, at least.

I do have a massive increase in fluid coming out of pretty much every orifice which is kind of gross, but not unmanageable. And my boobs are still sore but they have at least had the decency to grow a bit for The Boy’s enjoyment. Oh, and I got gastro, went on antibiotics and then got thrush for the first time in my life which was totally MORTIFYING, especially when the pharmacist insisted on demonstrating just where I had to put the cream with finger movements and everything while I’m standing between two other male customers hoping that this would be the moment that Jesus returned just to get me out of what was probably the most embarrassing moment of my entire life. But all that pales in comparison to the feeling of feeling the first real kick.

Of course if you ask The Boy and my OB, what I’m feeling is not my fetus moving – it’s gas. I’ve been told I won’t be feeling anything until at least 20 weeks, so when I told The Boy that I felt movement he pretty much just smiled and said ‘mmm’ because he knows that if he rolls his eyes and says something sarcastic I’ll cry. Then rip his balls off.

Anyway, last night while beached on the sofa drinking an apple and cranberry juice (because, you guessed it, the thrush was closely followed by a niggle of a UTI), I was poked. And then I was poked again. And then, as I sat there super still and quiet, I felt a tiny little roll. And if that wasn’t enough, I grabbed the doppler and felt the little bugger move in sync with the sound.

So there. Take that medical profession. 16 weeks and feeling movement. That, or I’ve got one mother-load of gas built up that’s going to instigate World War Three when it’s released. Either way, The Boy is going to feel it… and soon.

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