16 weeks 5 days

16 weeks 5 days

Sunday, 30 March 2014

2 weeks + 5 days

And after a HUGE break in writing, I am very proud to announce that I am now a Mummy!

Persephone Rae was born on the 11th March 2014, at 12:06 pm, weighing (a very teeny tiny) 5lb 12oz. And she is beautiful. And perfect. And I adore everything about her. Even that she keeps me awake until 2:30am, and that she wees all over me. I am besotted with her.

BUT before I start gushing about how wonderful my child is, I'm going to run a speedy recap over everything that has happened since I last posted (which was FOREVER ago: forgive me, this is going to be a LONG post).


December
So, I'm going to start on a sad note. On the 16th December, my Grandfather passed away from cancer. Whilst he had been told it was terminal when he was diagnosed, I don't think any of us thought he would be taken so quickly. I certainly didn't. Everyone is quick to share stories of miraculous recoveries from 'incurable stage four cancers', so it's very easy to clutch at such rare turnarounds and hope that their situation will apply to you. In our case it didn't. After being offered four courses of palliative chemotherapy, my Grandy had the first, and developed sepsis due to his impaired immunity. His deterioration after this point was rapid. As such, Christmas and New Year were a very sad time for us all. I actually can't convey how rubbish the entire thing was. It sucked. It really, really sucked. I went to stay with my Grandmother for a week at the beginning of January, and it was truly awful having to watch her grieve and feeling completely unable to help. I can't begin to comprehend how it must feel to spend your entire life with someone, and then one day they're not there anymore.

Anyway, as a result of my Grandy leaving us, I had a slight change of heart career-wise. I had previously been quite laissez-faire about where my life was going to go, and thought that if nothing came about I'd probably end up doing a PhD. After December's events however, I wanted to go into medicine (and still do). So, I'm currently sorting out volunteering placements, open days and medical school exams in preparation for starting Graduate Entry Medicine in September 2015. There is A LOT I need to get sorted before the application deadline. But I'm incredibly excited about it all. As it stands, I'm quite interested in entering oncology (understandably), but I'm aware that the field I end up going into may alter dramatically as the course progresses and I undertake various placements.


January
#EXAMSEXAMSEXAMS

Exams were ok, Considering that Grandy had just died, and I was seven months pregnant at the time, I can't say my mind was fully focused on them. However, in spite of this, I still did reasonably well (although I'll moan that I didn't get 1000000000000%). I got quite a few odd looks waiting outside the exam hall. We were sharing with freshers, so they all proceeded to stare at me, like I was an alien. (No guys, I'm just knocked up- chill out).

After exams, I was officially on maternity leave until next January (sad face- I miss Uni SO MUCH right now). I definitely needed the time off towards the end of the pregnancy; I was getting pretty uncomfortable and tired by around 8 months, so I would have been useless work-wise. I was also quite hideous to look at: note to self- if you're ever pregnant again, hide yourself away for the sake of everyone's eyes. And I am glad that I've decided to take the year off. It's been lovely being able to enjoy spending time with the baby, and not having to worry about writing up my project or revising for finals. That being said, I can't wait to go back. Motherhood's fab and all, but I need something a bit more substantial to focus my mind on.

January was also the time when I really started to look into the birth; more specifically, I looked into everything that could go wrong during the birth, and the likelihood of it happening, and the frequency of it happening, and OH MY GOD I AM NOT GIVING BIRTH. That's basically what happened. I read somewhere that like only 43% of women who go in for a natural birth actually achieve it. 43% IS A REALLY SHITTY PERCENTAGE. I AM NOT HAPPY WITH 43%. I also read about forceps. DEAR EVERYONE READING THIS: DO NOT LET ANYONE NEAR YOU WITH FORCEPS, THEY ARE BARBARIC. Ironically, I had started researching the birth to alleviate my worries about the whole thing; paradoxically it compounded everything. It was at this point I read up on caesareans, and the risks associated there- risks which I was substantially more comfortable with than the possibility of developing a recto-vaginal fistula from an instrumental delivery. So, I asked the midwife if I could be referred to a consultant to discuss the possibility of having a c-section. And thus began my long and difficult fight to get the birth that I wanted.

February
After some persuading, the midwife referred me to the consultants team (although that in itself wasn't an easy task- initially she just told me to "go private"). February then became the month of "travelling-back-and-forth-to-the-hospital-every-week-to-see-a-different-doctor-and-be-told-no-i-cant-have-a-section". It was really enjoyable.

The first doctor I saw referred me to a 'psychologist' to 'discuss my fears'. I have no issue with going to see a psychologist. That is fine with me. I do, however, have an issue with being told I'm going to see a psychologist, and turning up to discover that the doctor didn't even make me an appointment.To make it even worse, the woman he had me down to see wasn't a psychologist, she was a psychiatrist. Who dealt with women with bipolar, schizophrenia and a history of suicide attempts. And she wasn't involved at all with deciding if people were granted c-sections. FAB.

So, needless to say, when I went back to see doctor number 2, I was not a happy bunny. I was an angry, angry, angry, raging, fuming bunny. And I was awkward, and unpleasant, and I made it clear that I did not want to go and talk to anyone, and I was 36 weeks pregnant, and I wanted my caesaren booked in then, and I was not leaving. ENTER WONDERFUL, MAGICAL, POLISH DOCTOR NUMBER 3 <3<3<3<3 Wonderful, magical, Polish doctor number 3 listened to what I had to say, and said he'd book me in for a section at 39 weeks- but if I went into labour beforehand I had to 'give it a go'. I LOVED WONDERFUL, MAGICAL, POLISH DOCTOR NUMBER 3. 

So then my section was booked in, I was off skipping into the sunset, life was amazing, lalalalalalalalalala... and then I got a phone call from the Main Man Consultant's secretary a week later. Main Man Consultant wanted to meet with me ahead of the c-section. Naively, I thought he was just going to introduce himself before the surgery- he wasn't. His opening line was: "Why should I give you a section? You can ask for it, but why should I give it to you?" I nearly died. Everything had been sorted and booked and finalised, and now it was being taken away again. I honestly thought that I had lost it when he said those words. Luckily I had my Mummy with me to help fight my corner (she is the most amazing Mummy in the world), and after what felt like a lifetime, (and some hilarious choice quotes from my Mother: "She goes to Imperial, you know!") we left and I still had my section booked. And as such, I LOVED WONDERFUL, MAGICAL, MAIN MAN CONSULTANT.

March
Obvious really: birth.

I had a pre-clerking appointment the week before where there was some concern about Percy's heart rate, and at one point we thought they were going to want to get her out then (which resulted in me frantically saying "But I'm not ready Mummy! I'm not ready until the 11th, it's booked on the 11th!). The situation quickly rectified itself once I'd eaten though (hilarious), so I was free to go and waddle about for my final week of pregnancy.

The morning of the section itself, I was relatively calm. I didn't really get nervous until I was literally outside theatre and about to go in. It was fine though. It was more than fine, it was wonderful. Everyone was absolutely amazing, and- for me- it was a perfect birth. I appreciate that there are a lot of people who would hate the idea of a caesarean. but I honestly could not have wished for a better experience. It was the best day of my life. And if I could relive it all over again, I would.

Main worries about the procedure were:
1. The spinal block. BLEURGH A NEEDLE IN MY SPINE BLEURGH BLEURGH THAT IS GROSS, WHAT IF I MOVE? WHAT IF YOU PARALYSE ME? WILL IT HURT? NEEDLE IN SPINE BLEURGH, It wasn't that bad. It felt weird, but not painful. I think it was the concept that was freaking me out more than anything else.
2. Baby not crying when they got her out. This was a big worry. I already knew that section babies can often take longer to wake up, and their lungs can be filled with fluid because there haven't been contractions to clear them. So I was VERY concerned about her not crying. But she did. Straight away. It took a while to register that that was my baby crying (although, to be honest, I think I was tripping on a combination of morphine and adrenaline at that point). And she had super super super apgar scores of 9, so I was a very happy mummy.

Things I had not fully considered that were really weird:
1. The actual process of getting the baby out. THEY ARE PULLING ON YOUR INSIDES AND IT FEELS REALLY REALLY REALLY WEIRD AND UNPLEASANT AND YOU JUST WANT THEM TO STOP. 
2. "Hey, you had surgery like 4 hours ago- lets get you up and you can walk to this chair and then go for a shower!" Are you sure my insides haven't fallen out? Are you sure? They definitely aren't on the floor? Can you please just check again?!
3. Your dignity is gone. It's just gone. There's none left. It's all gone. Bye dignity! See you later! Gone.

Percy is now a scrummy yummy stinky moany whiny beautiful baby piglet and I love her so much, I'm stupid tired now, so I'll update on life so far as a Mummy in my next post. Spoiler alert: It involves being very very tired and having a lot of discussions about poo.

Sunday, 17 November 2013

22 weeks + 5 days

I've thought about writing this post for the past couple of days, but I wasn't sure how it would be received. Even now, after finishing it, I'm still unsure whether or not to post it. However, I want to record a true representation of my pregnancy and how I have felt throughout. Hence:


I feel isolated.

I feel like I have nobody to talk to.

I feel sad.

I feel frustrated.

I feel angry.

I feel guilty for everything that I'm feeling.

I don't really know what's happened over the past couple of days/week to impact my mood so much, but lately I'm becoming increasingly less excited about baby's arrival. Which is a really terrible thing to feel. And an even more terrible thing to say. I'm scared. I'm only just appreciating what I decided to do when I chose to keep her. I don't think I'm ready to be somebody's mum. Especially by myself. I've never been a maternal person. Ever. I'm scared I'm not going to be any good. I'm scared that I'm not going to connect with her. I'm scared that I might resent her. Which isn't fair.

I miss everything I used to be able to do. I miss going out. I miss drinking. I miss smoking. I miss boys. I miss being able to think properly. I miss not being fat. I miss being able to run without getting out of breath after 5 steps.

Before now, I always thought, "Oh well, it's only for another 4 months. Then everything can go back to how it was before." But now I'm realising that it won't. And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I have nobody I can say this to. Honestly, I have nobody to whom I can say "I don't think I'm happy about being pregnant at this stage". Because it sounds horrendous. I should be excited. I should be ecstatic. I'm not.

Don't get me wrong- I do want baby. I do. I know I made the right decision by keeping her. I guess I just didn't appreciate how much everything was going to change.And how difficult it was going to be.

To be perfectly honest- and this sounds incredibly shallow- I think half of the issue is that I'm unhappy with how big I feel right now. It's really upsetting me. I don't like being this size. And I'm scared about getting bigger. Because I know that I'll be even more unhappy then. I don't like how I look right now. And I know you're supposed to put weight on when you're pregnant. I know that I'm growing a person, and obviously I'm going to get bigger. And, again, this is something I thought I was ok with.
 
I'm sick of people's reactions to me aswell. I'm sick of being told I'm hormonal or hysterical if I'm not feeling like Mary fucking Poppins. Nope, I'm not being hormonal, I'm just not happy. Is that not ok? Am I not allowed to be pissed off when I'm pregnant? Should I be walking round basking in my obesity and lack of life with a big fucking smile all over my face? Sorry for not being a robot.Sorry for having more than one emotion.

I'm scared about raising her alone. I'm scared about how having her is going to impact upon me meeting somebody else. I'm scared that I'm having so many selfish thoughts because surely that's an indication that I'm just going to be terrible.

I guess I'm also becoming increasingly worried about the birth, despite me saying otherwise. I am very nervous.

I'm hoping this is just a phase. Like emotional preparation: I'm having all these selfish thoughts and feelings now so that by the time she's born, they will have been purged from my system, and I can be a completely selfless mother and focus on her needs. Fingers crossed, the next time I write anything I'll have worked through this and be back to eagerly awaiting her arrival.

I think I had prepared myself for the possibility of pregnancy being physically difficult. I never anticipated that I was going to find it so mentally challenging.

Sunday, 10 November 2013

21 weeks + 5 days

I'M GOING HOME TOMORROW.

Very excited about this for a few reasons:

1) I miss my bed- it's 170538x more comfy than the wooden board that I've been sleeping on here

2) I miss the cat.

3) I miss the dogs

4) I miss clean non-polluted air

5) I miss not having to walk up 70 flights of stairs to get to my room

6) I miss having my own room

(and obviously normal person stuff like missing family etc.)1

Just managed to finish packing: by 'packing' I mean 'shoving-everything-into-suitcase-and-hoping-it-closes-then-finding-it-doesn't-so-having-to-take-everything-out-and-repack-4-more-times'. I never understand this phenomenon- stuff clearly fit in suitcase when brought it down here, but now I want to go home, suitcase has miraculously halved in size. 

Am not looking forward to journey to Euston tomorrow. Hate travelling with aforementioned suitcase. Just realising how hellish life is going to be next year when am travelling to/from London with small child aswell as suitcase. Note to self- find suitable partner/slave to transport luggage before this time.

Not a lot else has happened recently. Literally been living in the office at uni. Got lots of lovely results. Am a Computational Chemistry queen. Love Chemistry. Chemistry is my life. I'm a massive nerd etc. etc. 

Again, not a lot to report on baby. Lots of kicking. Have been feeling generally unwell recently (like early pregnancy unwell) but think that may be due to tiredness as opposed to anything else. Hoping it will go away soon- if it doesn't I'm going to be very annoyed. Nice, shiny pregnancy glow has only just arrived, surely it can't be leaving already?!

1. When I return to London in a couple of weeks there shall be an equivalent list along the lines of:

"Very excited about returning to London for several reasons:

1) It isn't in the middle of nowhere

2) Am able to walk to shops

3) I hate the cat

4) I hate the dogs

5) It stinks in the countryside

6) I'm getting fat from the lack of walking"

Thursday, 7 November 2013

21 weeks + 2 days (ii)

Jesus Christ, as if I actually just wrote about having a coffee. What is my life?

21 weeks + 2 days

Whilst have far far more pressing issues to complete, have decided to update blog as *shock horror* today am actually in a rather good mood?!

Pregnancy-wise, have decided that maybe I was being slightly restrictive with regards to what I was doing/consuming. So, today went ABSOLUTELY CRAZY and had a coffee (with caffeine) and sushi (vegetarian though- I'm still anti-mercury). Honestly think that it was the best thing I've ever done, and as such am going to continue to have one caffeinated drink per day as a sort of 'mid-morning treat'. (Yes. That is right. Coffee has become a treat.)

Baby has since been enjoying kicking me so obviously she doesn't mind a coffee either. Also, am starting to wonder if my 'feeling ill' for the past 5 months has simply been caffeine withdrawal- feel much better and alive now.

Work-wise, am super super keen on my project at the moment. Had a meeting with my supervisor today and she said everything looks like it's going well re: results and stuff. Quite exciting really.

Roommate-wise, I'm currently involved in a Cold War with 'The Psycho Bitch One'. Because she doesn't wake up until after midday, she gets annoyed about me drying my hair at 7/8am and for the past two days has asked if I would go outside and do it.

Few issues with this:
1) My hair is like Frankie Sandford's, but shorter. It takes 2 minutes to dry.

2) It's not early after 7am. Normal people are awake then.

3) I use the quiet setting

4) If I went into the corridor, surely I would 'disturb' more people since it's so 'early'

5) She dries her hair at 11:30pm and does not care if I'm awake or not.

6) She doesn't own the fucking room.

Ironic thing is, by pissing me off by asking me to dry it outside, am now making conscious effort to use the louder setting and dry hair earlier every morning. Seriously, she's 28 and lies in bed all day. She repulses me. I find her vile. And, I'm leaving on Monday. Going back home for a bit and then returning in a few weeks (and living somewhere else, I should add).

Sunday, 3 November 2013

20 weeks + 5 days

As promised, I'm back with more baby-related updates from my life (although I'm technically a day late, but I swear I did NOT forget).

Today I went on a cheeky impromptu shopping trip. I can't lie, I literally went out to buy food and then decided that sounded boring so decided to go to Westfields instead. I think it was probably the most impulsive thing I've done in the past 5 months. Anyway, the outcome of this crazy spontaneity  is that I have some nice shiny new maternity clothes! (And bras- I need an endless supply of bigger bras, I'm scared my boobs are going to explode).

Mini moan: It took me forever to actually find anywhere that stocked maternity clothes to start with. And then, the places that actually sold them (of which I found TWO) didn't have my size- apparently size 8 people don't get pregnant. So needless to say, it was more of a 'needle in haystack' type hunt as opposed to a nice casual shopping afternoon.

Mini moan number 2: WHEN DID EVERYONE IN TOPSHOP GET SO SKINNY?! I walked in and I swear everyone weighed about 6 stone. It was a real ego-boost. Seriously, I felt so hot and not like a whale at all. (Sarcastic tone, obviously).

But anyway, I managed to find some jeans and a top so I was pretty happy. I've been living in leggings for the past week and it was getting to the point where I was suffering serious denim withdrawal symptoms.

In my last post, I said I was going to carry on recapping what had been going on whilst I stopped posting things, of which there was lots and lots and lots. So....here it is.

As I've mentioned (a lot? a little? all the time?), I'm currently staying in a hostel. Which is fine. I'm not a snob. I like it. Kind of. It serves it's purpose for the time being. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I emerged to find that on everyone's doors they had put up posters saying they would be spraying the room for bedbugs in a few days. Now, logically, I am aware that pesticides and insecticides are probably not going to harm my unborn child. I know that. However, I would rather be overly cautious regarding things that I inhale during my pregnancy. So I sent an e-mail to the management team which essentially said:

 "HIYA, I'm preggers, please don't spray my room. I'm going home next week, can you spray it then? xoxoxoxoxoxoxo" (but in a more serious formal tone obviously).

Management didn't reply (THANKS BABES <3) so the night before the room was due to be sprayed, I went down and spoke to the lady at reception. She said that they were still deciding what to do about the matter (uhm....shut up, I've said I don't want it doing?) and that the manager would e-mail me in the morning.

The day of the bedbug spraying: Got an e-mail at 8:30am saying my room wouldn't be sprayed. At all. Which I was really impressed about. The bedbug sprayer man also spoke to me and said he wouldn't spray my room. I was like OMG these guys are so great, I can't believe how amazing they've been, and then skipped off to uni. I returned back to the hostel just before 7pm to find a sign on the door of my room saying "Do not enter before 1pm" (after a room had been sprayed, you weren't allowed to enter it for 2 hours). I went it and it was horrendous. Honestly, the smell was overpowering. I was mortified. I asked my roommate if our room had been treated and she said it had (although there is a bit of a language barrier going on there, I can't lie). Called my parents and they just told me to leave and go home. Which I did.

So, after that I sent another e-mail to management stating how I had initially been impressed with their response until the above had happened. They replied the next day inferring that I was a crazy pregnant lady and that of course my room hadn't been sprayed. Uhm...WTF?! My response was simply that I knew it had been treated and I had multiple items of evidence to prove so. They didn't feel the need to reply.

Moral of the story: To all of you pregnant people looking at staying in a hostel in London, I recommend you DON'T go to one of the LHA ones (look them up, they're all over the place) as they will pretend to understand your concerns but will actually go and just do whatever they want.

My rent was due on Friday. I am yet to pay it. Thinking I might cause a fuss over the matter because I'm really annoyed at how they think they can just ignore me and I'll go away. (I say this, but I'll probably just pay on Monday and not mention anything because I'm so annoyingly spineless sometimes.)

There's probably more things to be said, but I'm in the library right now because I'm intending to study. As it stands, since I got here half an hour ago, I've eaten a chocolate bar and written this post.... So I shall leave those stories for another time!

Friday, 1 November 2013

20 weeks + 3 days

I'M BAAAAAAACK.

And I'm a seriously moody person at the moment. That is my one emotion- miserable. And angry. And short-tempered. And frustrated. (I'm aware there's more than one in that list, I don't need telling.)

BUT ANYWAY there's a million things that have happened in the past however many weeks I disappeared for (more on that later), so I suppose I should go over all of those as opposed to just being all "RAH RAH RAH I AM A RANTER".

So, first and foremost: the reason behind the sudden disappearance. As I mentioned earlier, my plan has always been to raise the baby alone. Baby's daddy left before I told him I was pregnant, and he wasn't overly supportive of the whole situation (i.e. he took the "Go and sort it out/It's not mine" stance on the matter) so I've always been aware that it was just going to be baby and myself and we would be ok. And I was HAPPY with that. Again, as I've mentioned, I had a tendency earlier on in the pregnancy to consume masses and masses of "EVERYTHING THAT CAN BE WRONG WITH YOUR CHILD" articles, and one of the things that I chose to google during this period was related to absent fathers and the effect it may have on children. I came across a paper whereby they reported that they had found that boys benefit from any contact with their father, regardless of whether it is consistent or sporadic, once or a million times. In contrast, for girls, the outcomes of their study suggested that they fare better in life if they either have a 'full-time' father or no father at all.

Just to make it clear at this point: I am not saying these are my views, I am simply saying this is something I read.

So, when I found out that baby is a girl, this study had obviously stayed with me, and I was even more adamant that it would just be the two of us. Again, I should probably delve a little deeper into the background before I proceed: when I met baby's father, he was with somebody else. And they themselves have a child together. As time progressed, he left her and became involved with me (I know how this sounds, but I swear I'm not a homewrecker!) and we were only together probably 6 weeks/ 2 months? It was something that was never going to last. I had recently broken up with my long-term boyfriend, he had (very) recently broken up with his girlfriend, and it was a relationship that was purely based on banter- we had nothing in common. Anyway, during this time, I discovered he also had another child with another woman- YES, OK I AM STUPID. I KNOW, WHAT WAS I THINKING? WHERE WAS MY BRAIN?! So, to summarise, he has a track record of this kind of thing.(I am getting to the point of the story, I swear). 


Right, so back to him leaving. He left me and got back with his previous girlfriend (the one who he left, baby mummy no. 2) within a matter of days (clearly he also does this a lot) and basically a lot of rubbish went down when she found out I was pregnant. They both separately came to where I was working at the time and thoroughly enjoyed shouting in my face. It was wonderful, Thank god the chef was there, because he was literally like my bodyguard at this point in time. So, after this I heard nothing from either of them, and I didn't attempt to make any contact because I didn't want any involvement. In my eyes, I was also giving them the opportunity to carry on as they were and pretend nothing had happened- because I'm a super nice courteous person.

When I reached 13 weeks he sent me a message: "Did they give you a conception date at the scan?" Sweetheart, surely you've fathered enough children by now to know they don't do that. I ignored him. Just before I was 18 weeks, she sent me a message. It started pleasantly- congratulations, sorry if I upset you when I last saw you- that kind of thing. I naively replied, because obviously everyone is a nice person really, and nobody is a secret bitch, right? WRONG. VERY WRONG. STUPID HARRIET. She then told me they wanted to be involved. I blocked them. I understand all the crazy fathers rights people shouting at me, and being like "you crazy whore, your baby deserves to know her father wah wah wah bitch", BUT screw them, they're wrong.

So, then everything died down and was nice and quiet for a bit until a week later she sent a message to my mum. Yep, HIS GIRLFRIEND sent a message to MY MOTHER. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but it is neither of these peoples business. Is it my mothers baby? No. Is it crazy psycho girlfriends baby? No. It's my baby. Technically it's his baby too, but really he's essentially been a sperm donor in the entire process. Anyway, my parents replied- in a civil manner- and she came back with a load of abuse at them. On the 25th October, I added him as a friend on facebook so that he would have a means of contact with me if he truly wished to discuss anything regarding baby. He has made no effort to speak to me whatsoever.

So I really don't know what to make of the situation. Here are a couple of things that are bugging me:
1) Why is she so keen to be involved? She should hate me. She should hate this baby. And this is not a calm civil girl I'm talking about - you all know exactly the kind of girl I mean. To start with, how little self-respect does she have by taking him back after he got someone else pregnant? And secondly, she's fighting his corner?! Seriously?! BITCH ARE YOU HIGH?!??!?!?!?!?!?
2) He has no involvement with his first child whatsoever. He tells everyone he's trying to get access, however I have it on good knowledge that he's lying and hasn't made any effort towards his first daughter at all. Why the sudden interest in my baby, if you weren't bothered about the first?
3) HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY YOU'RE DESPERATE TO SPEAK TO ME, AND THEN WHEN YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO, YOU JUST SAY NOTHING?

Ok. So. That's been the main theme of the past couple of weeks. Hence my anger. It's unfair. I'm pissed off. I want a cigarette. I'm not going to lie. That is all that has resulted from all this stress, it's just made me want a cigarette. (Not that I would have one! As soon as I found out I cut down to 2 a day and within 2 weeks I'd quit completely.) And a gin and tonic. YUM. (Again, obviously not drinking. Drinking is why I'm pregnant in the first place.)


Other baby news: had my 20 week scan on Monday and baby is all fine :) So that took a lot of worry away from how baby is developing. She refuses to stay still though. At all the scans I've had they've been like "OMG LOOK YOUR BABY IS LIKE USAIN BOLT" (as in she moves fast...not she's sprinting everywhere).

I've doubled in size in the past week. I could fit in my jeans last Wednesday and by Tuesday there was no fastening those bad boys. It's good really because now I'm obviously pregnant, as opposed to before when it was like "Has that girl consumed 5 big macs or something?"

This has turned into a pretty ridiculously long post which it was never meant to be. I still have a million more things to say but I need to eat and go and pay my rent so I'll probably just post more mad ramblings of a pregnant lady who's lost her brain tomorrow.... That's if I remember. Baby brain is full on kicking in. STOP WRITING HARRIET.