80 days

5 Apr

80 days. Just enough time to fly around the world in a hot air balloon. Or, you know, finish growing a baby.

So that’s it then. The Boy and I have 80 days left to enjoy life before our cosy two becomes an even cuddlier three. To celebrate, I decided to spend the equivalent of my weight on cloth nappies because a) they fall into the ‘essential’ category and are therefore on my very tiny Allowed To Purchase list and b) they’re super cute and soft and I NEED something that says baby right now. Because the kicks, heartburn, and waddling just aren’t convincing enough.

Anyway, we had our 28 week check up yesterday and everything looks wonderful. Pork Chop had his foot stuck up somewhere near his mouth and he’s swimming around in a normal amount of fluid. My uterus is measuring a week ahead and, silly me, I thought once it hit 30 centimeters it’d stop growing. Apparently not. Apparently, those bony structures otherwise known as ribs are no obstacle to a growing uterus – they actually MOVE to make more room in there. So yes, I can get bigger. Much bigger. Freak show bigger. Awesome.

I also had my first childbirth class last weekend. I took a friend since The Boy was studying, and boy was that awkward. There was an audible sigh of relief from the other couples when I managed to mumble out a few mentions of my husband, though now I kind of wish I’d played it up a bit more. I mean, how often do you get to pretend to be a lesbian at childbirth classes?

As for the class itself, if was pretty good. I totally aced the relaxation exercises, sleeping through most of the eight-hour class. I’m still not convinced though, that when push comes to shove – literally – I’ll be all that relaxed. I’m pretty sure I’ll be whimpering for an epidural within the first 30 minutes. But hey, supposedly if I practice every day the next 11 weeks I’ll hardly feel a thing at all during labour. I might even orgasm. And surely the thought of being able to trot that out at Henry’s 21st will be enough to keep me going?

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