Very belly

28 Mar

So! I made it to the third trimester. Only nine more weeks until I’m considered term, 12 weeks to my due date. It’s super close now but it still feels like forever and I can tell already that these final months are going to be a drag.

A drag because I want my little man out already, so I can hold him close and breathe him in. A drag because I’m already HUGE – thanks, world, for pointing that out every single day –  and don’t really want to get any bigger. And a drag because I’m still at work and can’t concentrate on a single thing, which makes every day feel like it’s a thousand hours long.

In all honesty, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far. Not because we’ve been riddled with pregnancy scares, or because I’m high risk, or because something has gone wrong in the past. No, I’ve had a really easy pregnancy and am happier than I’ve ever been; happier than I ever thought I could be. I didn’t think I’d make it this far because it’s all been going so incredibly well that something terrible MUST be lurking around the next corner. And so while I’m super excited to be running the home stretch, I’m also typically paranoid that this good luck can’t possibly last.

Because Google is a pregnant girls’ best friend, here’s this weeks’ selection of Stuff I Googled And Immediately Regretted:

1. Breech babies. According to Google, only 15% of babies are still breech by 29 weeks. Henry is still breech. I can feel him, hell, I can SEE his head up under my ribcage. No biggie, I tell myself. He’s got plenty of time to turn. But, according to a number of unauthoritative websites, a baby that’s still breech by its 30 week can be indicative of  neuromuscular problems, such as cerebral palsy. Cue nightmares.

2. Lotus birth. This was actually a Google search recommended by a ‘friend’ that The Boy and I repeated for some unknown reason the other night. I think it was one of those instances where, when you see something horrible, you just have to tell someone else to get it off your chest. So that’s what we did. And that’s what I’m doing to you now. You know your curiosity will get the better of you eventually. But if you look at images, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

3. Cord accidents. Actually, Googling this made me feel a bit better. The number of fetus’ who’ve made it to the third trimester and then died is really, really small. Still, it could happen. Some of the time this is caused by what’s known as a cord accident. Junior gets his cord wrapped around his neck and everything ends badly. This fear has seen me on all fours under my desk, sucking down OJ and shaking my belly to get the little guy to move more times than I’m sure is necessary. But thanks to ongoing research we’re finding out that most cord deaths aren’t spontaneous – there’s usually some other factor in play, such as too little fluid, or a shorter than average cord. While I may be drinking more than a dehydrated fish these days, if it’s going to reduce the chances that Henry’s cord loses its jelly like substance because of low fluid levels hook me up to a hose right now.

4. Stages of labour. Anything to do with childbirth, really. But what got me was that the first stage of labour – when contractions start – can last up to 12 hours. 12 HOURS. I cry when I’ve had mild stomach cramps for more than 30 minutes. Childbirth is going to kill me. I haven’t even begun researching the second and third stages of labour yet because I’m still stuck on 12 freaking hours of cramps before its go time. What I think I’m going to need is a big fuck-off sign on the front door that can pre-warn any well-intentioned visitors that if they open said door they will be greeted by Linda Blair who will, no matter how nice they are, rip their heads off and slowly devour them limb by limb. And this is exactly why I’ve told The Boy that its only going to be him and me in the labour ward. Because he’s the only one who has officially committed to taking me for better or for worse.

Of course, this is just a sample of the things I’m anxious about. There’s the whole sleeping-on-my-back-and-therefore-depriving-my-unborn-of-blood/oxygen thing, which I don’t actually understand, and the food anxiety is, as usual, trundling along quite nicely. I’m also starting to get really worked up about post-natal things, like how to change a nappy, how to get a baby to sleep, and how to survive six months without sleep because I’m terrified my baby is going to die from SIDS.

Thankfully, in between freak outs, I’m actually quite excited. In a matter of weeks now The Boy and I are going to be holding our first love-child. I’m pretty sure it’s going to fantastic. We’ve got most everything sorted now so all that’s left to do is get ready to soak up the lovelinesses of our new little family. And that’s something I think I can do.


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