Weeks 14 – 17

Only three weeks late with this one! *fistpump*

Here’s a round up on what’s been going on at the start of my second trimester. FYI, this is meant to be the good bit of the pregnancy, between oh-my-god-I’m-going-to-vom-in-a-bucket and oh-my-god-I’m-so-fat-I-can’t-get-my-shoes on.

Toddler vs Tuppaware cupboard

Toddler vs Tuppaware cupboard

Scans!

With Billy, I had my 12 week scan at 12w5ds, and they moved me forwards a week to 13w5ds. This time round, we had our scan at 12w5ds, and guess what? They moved me forwards to 13w5ds. I am consistent with my baby growin’. This time round I looked more closely at the centiles chart and a 8cm long foetus is 13w5ds if it follows the 50th centile line. However, if it’s following the 90th centile line, it’s 12w5ds. We all know this baby is going to be born the size of a toddler, so the 50th centile is probably a bit optimistic. In my eyes at least, they shouldn’t have moved me forwards a week. But still, everything else this pregnancy will be judged on those days, so I should probably stop ranting. Bored yet? OK, good.

Now I’ve got that off my chest, here’s the good stuff:

13 week 5 day scan

Would it be biased to say that’s a pretty cute foetus?

When I was pregnant with Billy, I became aware of a theory called “Angle of the Dangle/nub theory”. In a nutshell, babies around 12 weeks have the stub of their tail left over from when they’re all tadpole-ish. Sometime between now and then, I seem to have become a bit of an authority on sexing babies from their 12 week scans. My friend Lucy sends me pictures of her friend’s scan pics and informs me I have 100% success rate.

Kid has strong selfie game

Kid has strong selfie game

So I was pretty excited about seeing our scan and seeing if I could uphold my title. I kept my eyes peeled during the scan and on the photos but sod me if I couldn’t even FIND a tail, let alone judge the angle of it. Sad face.

Also this month, Neil took me out for dinner. I ate all of this, including the gravy boat of melted garlic butter.

Also this month, Neil took me out for dinner. I ate all of this, including the gravy boat of melted garlic butter.

Moans! (or lack of…)

This time, last pregnancy I did a LOT of moaning about my sore coccyx, general backache, nose bleeds, legs cramps and the like. BUT, this time round, I have precious little to moan about. Either I know how to hold my posture better, the little bits of pilates I’ve been doing have been doing their thing or the pregnancy gods have been particularly kind to me. I’m sure they’ll get there own back later.

AND, I only have to wash my hair twice a week! *does victory dance*

Yes, I ate all of this too

Yes, I ate all of this too

More scans!

We decided to get a private scan done at 16.5 weeks to have a sneaky peek at the baby and to see if it’s a boy or a girl. Now I just want to make our stance on this clear from the offset. From dipping into message boards, I know that ‘gender disappointment’ is a thing. This pisses me off on a number of levels:

1, Gender is a sliding scale between masculine and feminine. Sex is biologically male or female. DEFINITIONS, PEOPLE.

2. The fact that your child could disappoint you before they are born makes me really sad. The fact that children can be a disappointment to their parents full stop is pretty grim.

3. Last but not least, more often than not, this comes with some very loaded assumptions and value judgements about what it means to have a son or daughter.

*climbs back down off soapbox*

My favourite cocktail bar makes a mean Virgin Porn Star.

My favourite cocktail bar makes a mean Virgin Porn Star.

We didn’t want to find out because we hoped the outcome was one flavour or another, but we had broached the subject of the ‘baby in Mummy’s tummy’ to Master Bill and thought it might make more sense if it was a little boy or a little girl in mummy’s tummy. Turns out we shouldn’t have worried, because he also thinks there’s a baby in HIS tummy. Then I made the mistake of telling him the biscuits were in my tummy after I ate the last one. You could literally see the cogs whirring around his brain. Just to confirm if you ever read this Billy: I didn’t eat the baby.

Post-nap grumps

Post-nap grumps

My money was riding on team blue in any case, and it turns out my lady intuition was bang on the money. I’m well good at this stuff. Two little boys! How adorable. But fast forward a few years and we’ll have two stinky teenage boys, which is ultimately less adorable.

I had this idea in my head before we went for the private scan that it was going to be a bit like going to a spa. There’d be plinky music playing, scented candles lit and it would be all serene and stuff. It was actually like a soul-destroying office with brown carpets and creepy 4D baby pics all over the wall. The scan itself was cool, although they wouldn’t answer any of my questions because they aren’t allowed to as it’s not a medical scan, which was a bit annoying. Not as annoying as the woman who ACTUALLY said “Now wipe that goopy stuff off your tum-tum” in a baby voice without an ounce of irony. I rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a headache. For the record: just because I’m gestating a baby doesn’t mean you can talk to me like I’M a baby!

Don’t get me started on the 4D scan bit I didn’t really want. The baby was obviously very comfy tucked in to my placenta, so I do have a 4D picture of him, but it looks exactly like melted cheese.

Next time: even more bloody scans! probably some moaning about new stuff!

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17 weeks

So long, summer – This week, I’ve mostly been having a serious case of the can’t-be-arsed’s. We’re back from holiday, my tan’s faded already, but the bags are still not unpacked. It’s entirely mental, but I’m having some pretty strong ‘anti-nesting’ urges. All the mess can wait. So can the box room (which is actually filled with boxes). I’ve got 15 episodes of Celebrity Masterchef in HD to catch up on, which in my books counts as SERIOUS BIZNIZ. It’s actually got so bad, I’ve begun to get a sense of achievement from seeing the ‘percentage full’ bit on my Tivo box go down by a couple of numbers. I officially need to get out more.

Thankfully, I don’t think I’m alone in this. The whole country seems to have gone in to semi-hibernation mode. No longer is Twitter (which acts as my barometer for most things) discussing beer gardens, home grown tomatoes and gin and tonics. We’re now in woolly tights, putting the heating on and making-a-bloody-casserole-territory. Autumn, I welcome you with open arms, you are my spiritual home. The maxi-dresses might yet to be packed away, but the cardis, tshirt dresses, knee length boots and comfy scarves have definitely made an appearance.

My social life, or lack thereof – This week, I had high hopes for my social life. I had a leaving do planned with a friend who’s swanning off around the world for 6 months, I was going to go to prenatal yoga, now I’m past the allocated 16 weeks pregnant, and I was going to make the most of my tan whilst it lasted by doing some laps in the local swimming pool with a friend. I’ve bailed on that too, in favour of a hot water bottle, a cat and some medicinal chocolate biscuits, thanks to this bloody dry cough, hourly sneezing fits, sinus pain and cold.

Not only do the pregnancy gods make pregnant folk more likely to get colds and flu, but then they make it so you can’t have any cold or flu medicine to help you though it. Yes, I know I can stick my head over a bowl of water and drink honey and lemon. I would prefer Drowsy Benilyn and a handful of Max Strength Cold & Flu tablets, if it’s all the same with you.

The midwife – Saw the midwife this week, test results from the first scan are all aces, and I’ve  put on the grand total of 1kg since getting pregnant, which doesn’t quite tally up with the number of biscuits I’ve consumed of late. She suggested my blossoming bump (or distinct lack, thereof) was down to my ‘strong core’ (ha) and stature (nice way of saying I’m a BFG). Still. I’d probably find something to complain about if I was the size of a house already.

Photographic evidence of my 17 week 6 day ‘bump’

The temporary stretchmarks – This week, I also threw what can only be described as a ‘right wobbler’ over ‘the discovery’ of ‘stretch marks’ which had made their way down my side from my bra to my waistband. I did a lot of moaning about barely having a bump, yet still being blessed with evil stretchmarks, and fearfully contemplated what I might look like in another 4 months time whilst furiously rubbing Clarins body oil all over my midriff.

Of course, the next morning, I woke up to find that the ‘stretch marks’ had magically disappeared. Turns out it was where a seam on a t-shirt had marked my skin from slobbing on the  sofa wallowing in snot and sneezes. Lesson learned; rant retracted.

New this week! Leg aches – My right leg, specifically from the knee down, bloody hurts. It’s not a ‘CRAMP-CRAMP-CRAMP-CRAMP’ kind of pain, more a dull, constant pain that makes you want to rub it. The only thing I’ve ever felt that was similar was the feeling of a broken bone, but I’m fairly sure I’ve not broken my leg. The Google-powers-that-be suggest that yes, this is another common pregnancy complaint, no, they don’t know why it happens, and the only way to get rid of it is to, you know, give birth. Lovely.