With my first two pregnancies, my placenta was anterior and as such I didn’t feel movement until well into the 20-something weeks and even then it was sparse and irregular. So much so that when pregnant with my eldest we had to have several trips to the hospital for monitoring him sheerly because I couldn’t feel anything. It wasn’t just frustrating, it was worrying too. Yet, as soon as got hooked up to the monitor it showed he was happily kicking away in there. In a way I felt cheated. Other mums were getting virtually assaulted by their babies, yet I barely felt mine. With my third I finally had a posterior placenta. I still didn’t get beaten up by him but I felt him so much more. It was lovely.
This time I have an anterior placenta again. I’m 21+2 today and in the past few weeks I’ve felt the very sporadic tiny ‘possible’ movement once every few days. Until the past few days that is. Imagine my surprise when every time I go to bed at night, my little womble appears to be having a wriggle fest. I am utterly bewitched by it. I find myself laying awake, just so I don’t miss a minute on it. For you see it’s one of the most beautiful feelings in the world yet this time, it feels so poignant and utterly bittersweet. With each day that passes I have to come to terms with the fact I will never be pregnant again. Never experience this again. The magic that is pregnancy. In a small way, it breaks my heart. I don’t want to miss any of it.
It seems such a vast amount of time ahead of us until she’s here and at the same time, I can feel it escape through my fingers like sand. Going. Going. Gone.
I’m getting fatter yet it’s from overeating not pregnancy. I’ll never be that picture in my head that I’ve wanted to fit, one of those slim woman with a beautiful bump. I’m just the flabby one who gets flabbier.
I have no clothes that properly fit. Never underestimate how crap ill fitting clothes can make you feel. I have one pair of maternity jeans and three maternity tops. Even my knickers won’t stay up!
It’s ridiculous but i’m already saddened that due to her arrival date, she’ll be sucked into the school system far too soon. If only our little surprise had occurred a few weeks later I would have had her at home a whole extra year, just like with the seven year old.
I’m worried that we won’t be able to get all that we need and as silly as it sounds with her being our last, the things that I want too.
It’s weeks until our next appointment. So many weeks. It’s near surreal this time in between just drifting through pregnancy.
My SPD is getting progressively worse.
I can’t stop eating.
I have nobody close to share the pregnancy with, the excitement. It’s not that real to hubz or the kids until baby is here. It’s a sister I need. A girlfriend.