sweetfoolthemouth: (Default)
( Feb. 20th, 2009 03:15 pm)
I have my 22 week scan on the morning of my birthday. Good planning there! This means it's almost inevitable that baby will arrive on Shaun's birthday.

We spent most of this morning at St Helier, mainly due to things happening overnight I wasn't too happy with, so to ease our worried minds we went to the Early Pregnancy Unit - except I didn't realise they had a desk there where you check in - so waited in the wrong area (Shaun - "I was right!"), so ended up being number 7 in a very long queue of ladies in varying sizes.

After about three and a bit hours of waiting, we were seen - and taken into a little cubicle, where the midwife (the nice one, who I've seen a couple of times - she's very direct, quite sympathetic and will answer your questions directly, which is a bonus) where they extracted more blood from my arm (I didn't wimp out), and listened to baby's heartbeat (nice and strong). One Ultrasound later, and we saw little dude hiccup, with a nice full belly and a nice strong heart.

She actually seems quite happy in there (she's a girl this week), wiggling around in my belly, hiccuping, getting a full stomach, weeing, hiccuping, wiggling around. Life must be so easy in there, with just my blubber to protect you (it seems to be doing a fine job right now).

It's funny, being pregnant brings out the mother in everyone. There's the mothers who have children, and the people who don't. I know I bombarded people with questions and things the more I found out about George, but I'm finding that actually the ones who give you the most definite advice are the people who don't have children. It's quite odd. (Yet somehow, I can relate to it, if that makes sense?) I've got some of the mothers at work giving advice (though I can't remember any of it right now), which is great. It all feels such a distant thing, so far away though. Like, it isn't really happening to me right now. When everyone's congratulating me, I have to almost check to find out what they're congratulating me for, despite me telling them. That probably makes no sense - it's just right now it doesn't feel real.

Anyway, that'll do for now.
Me : I don't get it. I know my LMP* was on a Saturday, so how come each new week starts on a Sunday?
Midwife lady : you're right
Me : ah, good
Midwife lady (thinks, probably) : and a bit pedantic, too

Later on

Me : okay, so if I'm 13 weeks and six days, then how come I'm 14 weeks on Sunday?
Shaun : eh?
Me : Well, tomorrow I'll be 13 weeks and seven days! See! It doesn't make sense!
Shaun : there's seven days in a week...
Me : ehhhh?
Shaun : you'll be 14 weeks, tomorrow. 13 weeks, and seven days, is equal to 14 weeks.
Me : ohh yesssssss

(baby brain fail)



* google it
.

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