Good news – it turns out I had a cold! And that ought to go down in the list of phrases I never thought I’d write, but when the sneezing and snuffles and itchy eyes turned into a cough and achy legs at the end of last week and I took a very tired version of me off to bed as soon as the girls were asleep on Friday night I knew (a) it wasn’t just a pregnancy thing and (b) that meant that by Sunday, or a conservative estimate, Monday I’d be feeling better.
And so it proved. I’m not completely over it but I’m feeling so much better than I was and while I’m not bursting at the seams with extra energy, the things that really felt like a struggle last week, like going to the supermarket and the butchers on the same day, are manageable this week. The only residual feeling is auntie-guilt; the small nephew has started sneezing and feeling sorry for himself – sorry lovely, Auntie Carie promises to give you a big non-contagious hug the next time she sees you.
So aside from infecting beloved one year olds, how are we?
The Little Bump and I went to see the midwife last week, we’re on weekly visits now until I’m holding him or her in my arms. According to the tape measure of great accuracy and the growth chart of destiny the baby right now is bigger than either of my elder two were at birth, at which point I decided not to convert that weight into anything that I can actually comprehend and my lovely midwife (obviously spotting the slightly worried expression) reassured me that she’s measuring the whole kit and caboodle; baby, water and all, and while I’ve not exactly set up an Olympic sized swimming pool in there, the Little Bump still has plenty of space to play with.
Which is good because he or she has some rotating to do; Little Bump was sat nicely back to back to me all through the appointment, presenting a rapid fire of feet and elbows to the doppler.
This week I don’t feel like I’ve got too much bigger, and the pictures seem to back that up, although today’s is a morning shot whereas last week’s is from the evening, and I always seem to be a bit bigger at the end of the day. I don’t think the bump’s got any lower anyway, which is probably a good thing, Little Bump was quite nicely engaged last week so there really isn’t very much lower to get and not be born yet.
But apparently that time is not yet nye. I’ve tried scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees, and pin basting Kitty’s birthday quilt in a similar position and while both were very satisfying activities in themselves (right up until the point that the mop bucket broke), I don’t feel like I’m any nearer actually having a baby.
I’m still having Braxton Hicks, some of which I notice and some of which I can only tell by prodding my bump and finding it solid, but nothing that suggests I’m going into labour any time soon. Right now I’ll confidently expect to see 40 weeks, and very probably 41 too. I categorically refuse to write a 42 week update that doesn’t include a baby in the picture though!
Although having said that, when I added a few nutritious and healthy snacks to the hospital bag this week (Oreos, Chocolate Hobnobs and Eccles Cakes) I did check all of the best before dates to be the far side of 1 September. We can but hope and book acupuncture that I get to eat them before then!