36 weeks: An update from the world’s worst Matron of Honour

About a year ago, back before I got married, and before we’d even thought about getting a bridesmaid dress for my Maid of Honour to wear, we ended up buying the dress I would wear at HER wedding, some 15 months later. It’s a beautiful blue dress in a Grecian style, in heavy flowing fabric. At the time, I was humming and hah-ing over whether to get the 12 or the 14 as both fit me well, and a year was plenty of time to get a bit thinner and a lot buffer, but in the end, decided on the 14, “just in case” there was a little baby bump to conceal at the time.

Never in a million years did it occur to me that instead of a baby BUMP, I might have an ACTUAL BABY to contend with on the day, as well as a body that would have only given birth some 4-6 weeks previously (makes mental note to google how many layers of Spanx can be worn on top of one another). I blogged about this first time round right after I peed on a stick, put my dates in to an online calculator and worked out I was due the same weekend as her Butlin’s 90’s Weekender hen do.

But, Mother Nature works in mysterious ways, and Laura has thankfully been an incredibly gracious bride-to-be – even moving her hen do to January, so I could still be part of it, even if I was the size of a house.

So, this weekend, with 25 inches of snow forecast, 18 people travelling from as far as Kent, Dorset, Glasgow and err, Leeds tootled off up the motorway to spend the weekend in York.Here’s a quick roundup of the weekend:

Friday night involved pizza, wine, kareoke, distasteful hats, moar wine and masks of the bride and groom.

Laura and I (cunningly disguised as her husband-to-be)

Laura and I (cunningly disguised as her husband-to-be)

The future Mrs Curtis

Team Singstar

Team Singstar

Saturday involved a lot of bacon, the realisation that we’d had half a foot of snow overnight, and some seriously competative go karting:

Team Go Kart

Team Go Kart

…before donning our party dresses and hitting the (rather slushy) city centre.

Team Laura Says I Do

Team Laura Says I Do

Sunday morning involved more bacon, gallons of tea, giving Laura’s car a jumpstart in our PJs after realising her battery was flat (I’m going to go ahead and put pushing a car uphill on the list of things I didn’t think I would be doing at 36 weeks pregnant), and waving goodbye to a very lovely York.

Team Jump Start

Much earlier on in the pregnancy, I was more than a little apprehensive about the prospect of co-ordinating 18 hens, in January, whilst heavily pregnant. However, the pregnancy gods have been kind, and I failed to take in to consideration what a well-oiled organisation MACHINE Laura is, as she did lots of the co-ordinating herself. I can only hope she has as much fun as I did.

For the rest of the week, I’ve fairly much fluctuated between feeling ON TOP OF THE FREAKING WORLD OH MY GOD I THINK I’M GOING TO GO FOR A FIVE MILE WALK OR MAYBE I’LL EMPTY ALL THE CUPBOARDS TO GIVE THEM A SPRING CLEAN and generally being so tired/grumpy/hungry/hormonal that the only thing I can do is curl up in a ball and have a quick nap. Sod’s law dictates that it’s seconds AFTER embarking on a nesting mission that I will develop sudden narcolepsy. Like when a friend gave me a load of absolutely beautiful baby clothes. I took them out, organised them in to age/size, folded them in to piles and promptly fell asleep on the floor using the piles as a pillow. And I wonder why every item of clothing I own is creased.

I’ve also developed what the internet informs me is rib flare. Basically, the space formerly occupied by your organs is now full of baby, so those important bits like your liver and stomach make their way northwards in to your ribcage. Don’t believe me? Check this out:

pregnancy organs gif


In situations like, you know, sitting down, lying down, trying to sleep etc (all that non-important stuff), your ribs start complaining and a burning feeling spreads across your intercostal muscles. The two solutions I’ve found to this (arching your back and taking off your bra) are, I’ve found, best done in the privacy of your own home.

So, a quick run down of the scores on the doors:

  • As of the end of this week (which, as I’m a day late in posting this, is actually today), I’m 37 weeks, which means the baby can come any time it likes, and the powers that be will class it as being fully cooked. I’m still under no illusion Baby R is going to make an appearance any time soon (my money’s on March 2nd, FYI), and Neil has put in a request for Bubs to be at least a teensy bit late so he can get all his current projects finished and signed off. Will see what I can do.
  • I have 4 days left in work before the out of office is set and I officially forget everything I’ve learnt in the past 18 months.
  • Baby is measuring right on track (filing this under: sentences I never thought I would say) and is 3/5ths engaged. This means it’s head is about half in/half out of my pelvis. The midwife confused me with words like ‘palpate’ and whether the measurements were how much was IN the pelvis or how much was OUT of the pelvis, so I’m just going to say half/half and be done with it.
  • I now officially weigh eleventy-billion pounds. I cannot confirm this with actual measurements, as I’ve stayed the hell away from the scales for months. I’m saving that joy for the day I go in to labour in the hope that the shock from the number on the scales will hurry things along a bit.

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