So where was I?

James went mad, demanding 3 feeds a night. He was making up for lost time after the last hot spell. Then what happened - another hot spell. We've been under house arrest since Friday afternoon, and James' sleeping, eating etc are *all over the place*. He's losing weight by the day - he only wants to drink foremilk (and I don't blame him). I've been trying to bolster him up with the odd bit and piece of formula & expressed here and there, but it's difficult when he's totally lost any sense of "every three / three and a half hours" (hour and a half or half an hour, anyone?) and the old knockers are full to bursting. I'm throwing it away at the moment to make sure I don't reduce - can you imagine having less milk when this hot spell breaks? The kid is going to be hoovering food up like some kind of suckage monster.

And I know it's alright, and I know he's perfectly happy but I'm a Mother, am I not. therefore *any* idea of my Lovely not eating or dear god, losing weight is enough to drive me in to the paranoia side of town.

And it' only early July. You know, when it went over 30 in June I had a bad feeling about this summer - and the current dense heat is only making me feel more forboding. It's going to be hot until mid September.

...thank God though, less than 2 weeks till solids. Six months, me arse. How time disappears!

Paranoia returns

Ah right, so.

I've barely felt her since yesterday morning - she had a very, very small flurry when I was going to sleep last night but nothing like the usual booming feet punching out and causing my whole belly to rock, or the scraping of her hands as she has a stretch. She usually greets me in the morning with a similar punching and kicking routine - and she'd started responding to the mobile music. So, I played it through twice as I got dressed this morning... and nada. Not a sausage.

So. trying hard not to get 200% distracted, if I feel nothing at all during the day, I'm going to make my way home via Barts, which has I believe some sort of "non-emergency" medical drop in centre type thing, so I can hear her heartbeat. But, at some point shortly I might ring the Midwives dept at St Georges for some advice and/or reassurance.

The more I think about this, the more a voice in my head is saying "What in hell are you waiting for?". Truth is, I don't really know but I can't just get myself in a big knotty panic over nothing. I want to give her the opportunity to say hello to me naturally, I also don't want to waste everybody involved's time by becoming a panicky first time mother - know what I mean?

She's only 31 weeks, so there's no way she's so big she can't move anymore. A couple of days ago she was laying completely sideways in there scraping and kicking at both ends. Just... ok... you know the chances of anything being wrong are very remote. Ok?

Ah, a new paranoia

Back of brain trying desperately to reach front of brain:

Why isn't she moving? I haven't felt her for hours! There's something wrong! there's something wrong!

Well. We'll see. In other pregnancy related shenanigans I at last gave in and bought a piece of "maternity wear". I am now the proud owner of a pair of jeans with a huge bucket like extra panel and stretchy sides. They hold themselves (surely this grammar is becoming tenuous) up by being so huge they stretch over the front of the belly completely, thus achieving a Hogarth-like Billy Bunter style trouser wearing look, with trews far stretched over a huge distended belly, high up almost to the armpits, and making me feel as if I should also have gout. Or be wearing braces and a small hat.

And I've also just had a load of watered down apple juice with super-wowee gubbins-what-is-good-for-you in with my lunch which has made me go a bit lightheaded.

Oh and I've been meaning to say this for absolutely ages and I keep forgetting. I am now at the stage where I literally loathe all smokers. All of them. Suppose you're walking next to a non-smoking woman who is pregnant and you're blowing smoke in to her face? Even worse if you're smoking a fucking cigarillo. How do you know she is pregnant? You don't necessarily. So the only answer is to NOT SMOKE AND BLOW YOUR SMOKE IN TO EVERYONE AROUND YOU'S FACES. Do you get it? Will you get defensive if I ask you to move rather than me coughing and wheezing and moving myself? Why I do believe you will. You will have to excuse me then if I start coughing in your face you INCONSIDERATE FUCKER.

(Note that the above is not in fact aimed at anyone I know at all - it's all people at train stations or waiting to cross roads of lighting up outside the damn tube station the *second* they get beyond the boundary, the pigfuckers).

....and relax.