The three of us are doing well. I have another cervical scan this Wednesday but I’m feeling quietly confident that my cervical ‘helmet’ is doing its job. Things feel pretty calm down there. Yes, I have started self diagnosing my own plumbing. No, I haven’t been to med school.
I had my 20 week anomaly scan last week and it was good to see that both babies have the requisite number of arms, brains, legs, noses and heart ventricles.
Big Val still has plenty of room and is in a rather comfortable feet down position. Check her out – she even has a pillow. She’s doing the uterine equivalent of ‘Netflix and chill’:
Richie McCaw though…..is not a Richie McCaw after all! The sonographer is pretty sure that he’s actually another girl. It’s hard to tell because he’s tucked away behind his sister and he’s rather squashed and mysterious. He’s head down and we saw Big Val kick him in the face live on (scan) TV. Poor little guy/girl. Anyway I guess we need to come up with a new name as she probably won’t be the captain of the All Black rugby team in real life anymore. Here she is – cute nose:
I have given up on wearing trousers unless they are of the elasticated waist variety. I bought 2 maternity dresses in Topshop as I can’t really go to work in sweat pants. There is a lot of terrible maternity wear out there ladies ….plenty of florals and wrap around tops (think Kate Middleton in pastels). Topshop, COS and Asos are still good. Anyway, my belly is expanding and people keep moving their hands towards me to touch it. In the words of Missy Elliott, keep your hands off my ba bump ba bump bump:
Overall I’m feeling good. We have some stressful stuff going on related to husband’s job situation but I am trying not to wallow in it too much. In the meantime I’m saving as much as possible and figuring out ways to squeeze the maximum amount of ££ from my rather stingy (by British standards) maternity leave allocation. It’s tough – living in London is expensive. Luckily my mum is retiring soon and has offered to come and help us once the babies are born. I’m hoping to take 6 months off work…which I know must seem like loads to American readers. It’s easy to get bogged down in negative thoughts at the moment – probably a combination of hormones, anxiety and weird nesting instinct. Sleep is interrupted by midnight worries about money, jobs and if we have room in this flat for the minimum amount of baby stuff. So I keep reminding myself that:
- I am bloody lucky to be pregnant after all the years of trying
- Plenty of families in London manage every day in much worse circumstances than us
- I could be living in a mud hut in Africa with no water, sanitation and certainly no maternity leave
- Nobody likes a moaner