Moolies

No news but plenty of action

Two nights running, have woken with some fairly strong "practice" contractions. Not Braxton Hicks, but full on period pain type pain.

On both occasions, have thought, aye aye - should I wake up Mackay? But what of course it's doing is buggering up my sleep even more than it was before, which is somewhat of a nuisance. However.

She's still moving literally all over the place - I've felt her head in about five different positions in the last day or so. All I can do is psychically suggest to her that she gets her bloody head down. Get it down woman!!!

Very unscientific survey wise, I have discovered that every single one of my friends who have had to have a late scan for whatever reason, have been over estimated in terms of weight. Once to the tune of about 3 lbs! So - although that's not exactly hard evidence, it does give me the opportunity to ask some good, solid questions on Monday. What is exactly is the precentage chance of this birth weight being right?

She feels big now though. Uncomfortable in a very different way. Like... well, some bits of my womb, if she decides to go sit in it, she's packed in like a bulging shopping bag, pulling the skin right out - extremely uncomfortable. Other bits there is plenty of room but I don't lose her anymore like I used to.

Anyway, am battling a migrainy headache today so must go. It's the sort I get with the lights in the eyes rather than the headache - so I'm a bit dizzy and fumbly. Probably just lack of sleep. I've got a feeling it's BP, so must try to be nice and relaxed.

Oh my God

You may remember some time ago, I humorously used the phrase "We're going to need a bigger boat". Or, if you cast your mind back further, you may also remember my Doctor sternly telling me that as a vegetarian, I had beeter make sure I eat a lot of protein, or I'll end up with a small baby.

Well, joy to the world, it appears that my nutrition is par excellence... nearing Texan protein standards, I would say, because a week and a bit before the due date (which probably means more like 2 weeks before birth) the beloved child is an estimated 9 lb's, 6oz.

Can I just say that again, bearing in mind that in the course of a week, she can easily put in well over a pound in weight. Nine pounds and Six ounces.

Nine pounds and six ounces!!!

If she does go over term, and possibly, frankly, even if she doesn't, we're looking at an 11 lb baby.

Suddenly, ceasars and epidurals are beginning to look very, very attractive.

On the "plus" side, she's not in breech (again). I don't trust you to lie still, you wee minx but if you can, possibly I would be most grateful. Even though you're about to crack me open like an egg.

I'm going to scan in all her measurements later or type them in or something - in the meantime, Mackay and I are about to go out and view the "London's West End" version of our mate's mad musical extravaganza, as a sort of last "date" before lives and it appears, internal organs, are changed forever.

It was worth it!

He said, before he went to the bathroom, guided by me, in order to stick his head down the toilet and puke copiously.

It's definitely not a jacuzzi

And I've taken photographs of it, but I have yet to bother getting out my lappie which has all the photo software gubbins on. Hey, bear with me, it's a relatively old camera (phew, all of.. two years old at least!).

Yes, the birth pool is up, clipped together and currently sitting in the front room, which has a delightful plastic sheeting flooring.

All this, and it could be for nought if she doesn't get out of damned breech. I can barely contain my bitter anger that I really do think it was the amazing-elastic-cosrset-thingy what done it. It pushed her out of my lower abdomen and back up in to the rest of my belly. Next thing you know, no more kicking the hell out of my rib cage, and a familiar head shaped object jutting in to my stomach. that would explain the increase in heartburn again.

The thing that I hate is that there's no one I can blame. If I lie down, I can barely move my right leg without going in to paroxisms of agony. Of course I was going to go to the physio. But they obviously haven't done any research in to breech figures for women wearing these bloody things or they would have warned me. Now, I'm stuck in the position of very possibly causing myself to have a major operation. Fuck! Ok. If I have to have it, I do - I'm not going to screaming in the corner and try to avoid it but frankly.... GOD FUCKING DAMN IT*.

I will phone Penny the Acupuncturist tomorrow but God knows what goods that'll do. More good that sitting around doing nothing, possibly. Marginally possibly.

*I'm rethinking this phraseology. Frankly, it doesn't put my abject anger and dissapointment in to perspective. Listen - when it comes down to it this might only happen once. There's a strong possibility that that is the case. So, here I am, planning the best possible environment to have my child in, for us to be able to go, wrapped in towels and snugs and sleep in our own bed within minutes of her arriving in to this world, to wake up with her snuggling beside me and wanting to feed instead of being in a bloody plastic fucking tray next to a hospital bed and .... all of that. All of that. Going. All because of my STUPID fucking USELESS body that can't even keep it together for the pregnancy so I go and do the stupidiest thing possible... what an idiot. Moron. But how was I supposed to know? Why didn't anyone know? Why didn't anyone bloody TELL ME.

Sorry about all the swearing, Tod.

Day 2 of no work

Haven't had to go out, so am feeling a bit restless, to say the least.

Practiced with Tens unit. Have got plastic sheets to go beneath pool and environs. Can't get pool due to no lining confusion. Watched baaaad Buffy eposide this morning (the one with Zander trying to be "cool").

Er... what else should I be doing? Um... Have done clearing up, pffftttt.... don't have the concentration to read anything substantial...

Aha. Comic shop.

So - day 1 with no work went by

Turned out of course that I had loads to do anyway.

You know what? She's so big now, I can't really slouch on a chair, in any capacity. I have to sit bolt upright.

I have also decided that since I'm not out gallivanting (ie: going to work) I am not going to wear the corset, which pushes her right up and I'm absolutely certain she doesn't like. Particularly since today it transpires that she's in breech again. So I have to try and keep her pushing on downwards and engaging properly.

Scan on Friday, which will be lovely. Seing her again, and so weirdly close to the birth. Then if she's confirmed to be in breech, there's an "ECV" next week. "ECV" is an External Cephalic Version. (What a very knowledgeable info page this one is, if you want to know more). Liz didn't really spend much time explaining what actually happens, so I theeeenk a degree of the third degree may occur on Friday. I like to know what the hell is going on, generally.

BP is up this week, as I suspected. didn't really feel myself as I walked round to Boots to get the Tens Machine. Another tick off job done. And the anti-bed-faller-offer from Argos, *and* measured up for the ole' nursing bras. All in one day.

Pool comes tomorrow in bits - will attempt a photographic record of installation etc.

Hey, thanks for the good thoughts the other day. Felt so completely weirded out. Strange. But, not so strange.

What the...???

Ok, so one minute I'm sitting here reading my email, the next minute I've got tears pouring down my face and I'm crying my head off for no definable reason.

Except for the obvious. Fear, worry... God knows. It's the strangest feeling you know... I'm so drained and knackered with carrying her around, but pretty soon she's going to be out of me and facing life. I'm frightened in a way for all of us. none of us are going to know what to do, really. Well, no. Not frightened exactly. She feels like... she's in a warm cocoon at the moment. She complains about it like hell but at least she's safe from everything. Even if it's draining the life out of me.

I haven't really articulated any of this, so you'll have to bear with me. Well not articulated it until I sat with my hands shielding my eyes and rocking backwards and forwards for about ten minutes just now. It was just a stupid, meaningless comment in an email that set me off in fact. I don't know. I've been in a strange mood all day. Mackay's been letting his tension out by getting all het up about stupid little things too and...

Bleh. Blimey. What the hell happens next. I tell you something, coming up towards the main event, everything's becoming a bit more extreme. The build up is very intense. I just want it to be over so we can get on with the next bit.

I'm sorry, I'm feeling a bit like a half built jigsaw puzzle with bits all askew.

Oh, it was my last day at work yesterday. I was so intensely busy I forgot to say. It felt very strange and alienating. Maybe that's another reason I've been weeping. Like I'm supposed to shed a skin and grow a new one with a "Mother" label sticking out at the back of the neck. then I'm supposed to go back to work in 6 months and just ... what exactly. Carry on as usual? The whole thing's very mussed up in my head presently.

So I thought I'd put on Sugar to cheer me up. What a mistake! Rarely have I heard post-Pixies geetar-pop-rock sound so fucking melancholy. I can hear some friendly, stupid Paul's Boutique coming on....

Hari Kunzru's rejection of Daily Mail Prize

I had to mention this because it's such an upstanding and ethically correct / positive / frankly great thing to do.

Here are a couple of links discussing what he did:

Author snubs prize in asylum row
Author rejects prize from 'anti-migrant' newspaper

Would I have the balls to do the same thing were I in his position? I hope so.

London today

A cop on the Today programme this morning talked about London being on a very high state of alert regarding the possibility of a terrorist bombing, and on the train in to work, two large army-sized helicopters were trailing across the skies of south London like two fat bluebottles, circling.

Inevitably

I try not to have that many opinions about celebrities because... well to be honest I can't really be bothered to. However, I have been surrounded by people pontificating on the fate of Michael Jackson (the singer, not the television executive) for the last 24 hours and feel frustrated enough to state that I literally have no opinion on the matter.