It is so hot, hot, hot. I can barely eat my Sunday roast, the sweaty preggo that I’ve become.
Not sure how my little pickle will cope with this heat if she comes out now. I pray she hangs on a bit and the temperature drops by ten degrees.
(Prayer number: 1
Prayer name: ‘optimum baby temp’
Status: dispatched to God.
Notes: OK, God. Admittedly I’ve been a bit flakey in my devotion, maybe more of a peripheral friend – but it’s never too late to start mending fences, is it).
Been lying horizontal under a fan watching Netflix, sun bathing on the balcony, listening to music and trying to cook Jake nice dinners this week (flailing a bit at the end in effort and enthusiasm). I’ve been doing a twenty minute walk in the park most days to keep a little bit active and encourage labour and I’ve had a swim. The swimming wasn’t quite as relaxing as it was in the second trimester. Just heaving myself in and out of the pool and getting changed is enough exercise to wear me out. I think my swimming days are done until the baby emerges.
I’ve put on exactly two stone during the pregnancy so far, which seems a reasonable amount to me. It would be a shame if I suddenly ballooned in the last two weeks, which could easily happen if I don’t exercise – considering I did and am currently doing nothing in the way of cutting back sugar consumption – despite my second trimester resolution.
I’ve come to the conclusion that denying yourself sugar and fat when pregnant is cruel and wrong. I don’t care what the ‘nutrionistas’ say. It may be bad for the body but it is good for soul (and the sanity).
The first member of our NCT group had her little boy this week, which has made us all excited and jittery. He is a gorgeous fellow and came out fine, albeit with a little medicalised cajoling.
Physically, I still feel very stiff and uncomfortable in the morning, but I’m also savouring the last days/week carrying the baby. It’s dawned on me that she is probably the safest she will ever be in there. It’s quite nerve wracking the thought of ejecting her into the big, wide world with its germs, dogs, smoke, kids on skate boards, weather etc… I keep looking at her Maxi Cosi car seat and I can’t believe they are going to expel us from the hospital and make us drive through town with her in it – what if someone crashes into us? She should be transported home by helicopter, surely?
Jake and I have interpreted her recent movements as her wanting to come out and experience the world now. Her little limbs flex and push like she wants to join the party and make her debut – or perhaps we are just projecting our impatience onto her. I would be happy if she came right now, but I also just read she is still building antibodies whilst she is in utero (until week 42), so I’m not grubbing around like a worm that’s swallowed a golf ball for nothing.
I also pray she starts arriving in the morning, or at least the day, so I’ve got as much energy as possible for labour. I can’t fathom how women summon the strength to go through a labour in the early hours of morning having had no real sleep since the previous night.
(Prayer number: 2
Prayer name: ‘optimum labour time’
Notes: not sure if this one will have gone anywhere yet, and is perhaps a tad indulgent. I might withdraw it before it starts getting processed).
Jake is surprised by how strong her legs are now when she kicks and how powerful her hiccup-jerks are. It is quite reassuring to feel her packing a punch in there and working out her diaphragm for her first gulps of air. I pray everything goes smoothly for her on the outside and she deserves it to because she has been diligently practising in there.
(Prayer number: 3
Prayer name: ‘seamless baby transition into world’
Notes: please note this is a double prayer that has been dispatched both on behalf of myself and a baby who is not familiar with the concept of ‘the prayer’ but holds a full and untainted record of complete innocence, of which these un-depleted innocence credits should be upheld and taken into account when answering and prioritising aforementioned prayer.)
At this point, there is hardly any cushioning or fluid around her in my belly, so you can really feel the muscle and bone of her limbs and connect more with the reality of her as a real baby.
The thought of her having a voice is freaking me out today. Perhaps the most dramatic change will be her transition from silent passenger to shouty front-seat driver.
Here’s my ‘worm-that’s-eaten- golf ball’ look to finish: