Weeks 9 – 13

Here’s a round up of all the stuff that’s been going down, and only 1 month late! *fistpump*

Same as last time:

1. I booked in with the midwife.
Only difference was that the midwife didn’t want to book me in until 10.5 weeks rather than 8 weeks like last time. Other than that, this was incredibly uninteresting, except the part where she stole all my blood, confirmed I weigh exactly the same as I did at this point last time and told me I would get extra scans and be referred for a gestational diabetes test because Billy was such a fat shit.

Aldi's light up bath toys. Good fun but a bugger to photograph on your phone.

Aldi’s light up bath toys. Good fun but a bugger to photograph on your phone.

Gestational diabetes tests appear to be pregnant lady torture. No food from 6pm the night before, then a blood test at 9am, a pint of lucozade, then another blood test at 11am and then you finally get some grub, which you have to bring with you on the day. Cruel cruel world. The 6pm bit is fine, but the no breakfast bit is going to turn me in to an angry angry bear. I have apologised to Neil in advance for my behaviour on that day because I am going to be a freaking nightmare.

2. All the sleep and no booze makes Kate a thin girl
OK, so not strictly true. Bloat and re-organised organs has meant I’ve been in my maternity jeans since I was approximately 1 week pregnant. But in a bid to keep an eye on my health and nutrition, the scales tell me I’m currently 3 lbs down in the first trimester. That’s 3lbs lighter than I was on my wedding day. Looking back through what I wrote first time round, it’s a similar story to then. Don’t worry though, I’ll make up for it AND SOME in a few months.

Shortly after I took this photo, he threw the food at the ducks with such gusto that he did a 180 off the bench and landed in the duck poo.

Shortly after I took this photo, he threw the food at the ducks with such gusto that he did a 180 off the bench and landed in the duck poo.

3. Neil is still my night in shining armour
Don’t mean to turn into a right soppy sod or owt, but I am a very lucky woman. Wanting to make sure I was getting all my nutrients, Neil bought a badass blender type thing (but not one of those superwhizzy vitamix ones I see mummybloggers talking about – I thought they looked pretty good until I realised they cost twice as much as my first car did) and has proceeded to make me a smoothie every morning since. I get my smoothie, a cup of tea and a slice of toast in bed, as well as a lie in, despite the fact he works some ridiculous hours and doesn’t go to bed at 7pm like *some* of us.

Have I posted this one before? If so, soz and all that. Toddlers wearing sunglasses are my new favourite thing. Less so when he snaps my favourite pair in half, but y'know.

Have I posted this one before? If so, soz and all that. Toddlers wearing sunglasses are my new favourite thing. Less so when he snaps my favourite pair in half, but y’know.

In a campaign to be the world’s best husband, for my birthday, he also bought me:
– a Snoogle pregnancy pillow type thing (think this was a bid to avoid losing his half of the bed to a pregnancy bed nest like last time), but goddamn, that thing is comfy.
– 100 polaroid / instagram prints from the past couple of years which are now pride of place on our lounge wall

The new addition to our lounge

The new addition to our lounge

– a stunning stone and armour necklace. Yep, I know, he’s a keeper.

Different this time round:

1. Meat doesn’t taste like death
Last time round, I went virtually vegetarian. To the point that I emailed the sandwhich shop I bought my lunch from every day to tell them their ham was off. It wasn’t. My stupid preggo tastebuds were. All meat tasted like it was rotten, and made me heave at the smell. This meant getting enough protein was difficult, but clearly didn’t do Billy a world of harm as he’s currently a contender for world’s strongest toddler.

Last time, I celebrated the end of my enforced vegetarianism by eating steak and broccoli 3 times a week for the first 4 months of Billy’s life (anemic, whatevs). THIS time, meat still tastes pretty darn good, which makes not being able to eat rare steak a complete pisser.

This kid has strong pout game

This kid has strong pout game

2. I only need to wee once a night
Good news! Unlike last time, I only get up for a wee once a night! Bad news! I wake up when Neil comes to bed, when the cat jumps on my head and when Billy decides 5am is morning anyway, so I might as well be up weeing.

3. My luscious non-greasy pregnancy hair is nowhere to be seen
Not going to lie. This was a major perk last time. I only had to wash my hair once every 4 days, from washing it every day. It was thick and generally looked ACE. It almost made up for the bit where it all fell out 3 months post-partum and I ended up with bald spots, then it all grew back at the same time and I ended up with wispy facial pubes I had no idea what to do with. Having kids is 100% glamour, 100% of the time.

I’m sure I’ll have to go through all the hair loss this time round as well, so can we hurry up with the bit where my hair looks excellent to compensate plz? Ta.

Not bragging or owt but got a sneaking suspicion our son is an artistic genius.

Not bragging or owt but got a sneaking suspicion our son is an artistic genius.

4. I have SPOTS on my BACK
Yep, this particular symptom is not cool either. I have zits. Big old zits I’ve not had since I was 15. I ORDERED 9 months of flawless complexion, so where is it?

Next time: Scans! More moaning! Swears!

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11 Weeks

I’m on a roll with these weeks, they’re going by pretty fast and I feel like I’m kind of in the swing of things. Or as in the swing of things you can be when no-one knows you’re pregnant, it’s 20+’C outside and all you want to do is hide your first trimester bloat under a massive cardi and a huge scarf. Come on Autumn, do your worst. I need to get my knee length boots and tshirt dresses out of storage.

How to get no help and draw no attention to yourself whilst acting like a prat in public:

Still getting the dizziness, which cumulated quite spectacularly with me nearly passing out in Subway. It was really warm, I was carrying a heavy bag and had walked for miles, and because of a client meeting, I was at least one meal down by lunchtime. The queue was massive and I was a bit shaky when I got to the back of the queue, sweating by the time I ordered and gripping the rail for support when they asked me if I wanted it toasted. By the time it got to the bit where they ask what salad you want on your cob, I shouted ‘everything’ before plonking myself arse-first on their beautiful cold tiled floor before my body made the decision to do it for me.

Interestingly, no-one commented, no-one stared and no-one came to help – although this is probably more of a reflection of the normal clientele in that particular branch of Subway than the people of Nottingham. I probably just looked like the world biggest subway fan, which, may just be the case.

New this week:

Interesting new developments this week: I’ve started telling my husband off in my sleep. Not actual words or actual insults, just sleep-grumps that leave him with no doubt that he’s in trouble, but no idea what for. What can I say? I like to keep him on his toes.

Wardrobe dilemma number 2:

I go on holiday in a few weeks. I’ll be 15 weeks when I go, and 16 weeks the day I get back. When I first got pregnant, I assumed I would be all ‘with adorable bump’ by that point, but the closer we get, the more I think I’ll still be all ‘with too many biscuits’. After going swimming a couple of weeks ago and feeling pretty uncomfortable in my lovely bikini, I decided it might be worth investing in something that’s going to cover the gut until it looks more bump like.

Once you chuck in to the mix the fact that you’re a 34G (with no pregnancy boob-gain, yet) and have slightly wonky baps, so need slightly padded cups to detract attention away from the wonkyness, and you’re in a right pickle. I don’t want to get a normal tankini as being just short of 6ft, these usually cut me across the belly button as it is. There’s little point getting a normal cossie as at between £30 – £60 a shot, I want something that’s going to fit me for more of the pregnancy than this one week in Greece. My wardrobe saviour finally came in the shape of this tankini set from Figleaves Maternity.

 

It’s not underwired, and on its own, it looks ridiculous, but with a simple black bikini underneath (I can’t find the exact one, but this is similar), it actually looks half decent. And I’ll be comfortable with all the bloat, and be able to wear it at the local pool when I do get a bump too!