The last few weeks have been quite eventful, well eventful for my life anyway loads of stuff has happened but the most important part is that we had our first scan last week. I have been terrified of that moment since I found out I was pregnant and have been overcome with worry about what might be going on in there. Up until that day the medical profession had made no confirmation of my pregnancy, just me telling them I’m pregnant, OK and a pregnancy test, alright 3 but still you just never really know.
So confirmation finally came last week meaning I can now begin to enjoy my pregnancy ailments and know that it’s that and buy any little things that I can’t bring myself to leave in the store, you know that sort of thing.
The scan was a totally weird experience. Other than going to the antenatal clinic once more to look around and see that I am possibly the only pregnant lady in there that has a husband and is over 20, but once you’re over that it starts to feel a bit normal. The receptionists still don’t differ much from the miserable bitter women you tend to find in doctors surgeries, but at least the midwives have a happy bone somewhere deep in their bodies.
So there we are sent down the corridor to wait to be called into the dark room to hear one way or another whether there is a baby, whether it is alive, whether it growing normally and whether there is anything wrong with me that could hurt it or whether I am just making the whole thing up. We were busy chatting away when one of the midwives opened the door to her room and out she came… not just any midwife but someone I knew fairly well having recruited and promoted twice in the last 2 years at the company I work for. I heard from her manager 6 months ago that she had left to live her dream of re-training as a midwife. Of all the people, of all the places and of all the times, I had to bump into her whilst waiting for my scan. It was a bit of an awkward moment as she came out of the room with a heavily pregnant women and when she saw me decided to completely ignore the woman she was with and started talking to me about the odd occurrence that had just happened. She didn’t even live locally, what are the chances?! So yet again another place I can’t visit and another thing I can’t keep private.
We were finally called in, I laid down, my husband eagerly leaning over to see what happens next and she squirted the horrible jelly stuff that makes me cringe. I wasn’t expecting it to be warm nor was I expecting it to make a farting noise which made me chuckle childishly while I was waiting to see what appeared on the screen in front of me. Clearly a very experienced Sonographer (I think that’s what they are called, not sure, lady with the scanning thing pressing so I hard I was going to wet myself) and straight away she went to the baby and there it was, this little alien thing wriggling inside me, I mean really wriggling, somersaulting in fact. She measured it, showed us it from different angles and at one point I’m sure it waved to us and then it was over. The picture was printed, she said it is exactly the right length from head to bum for that stage of pregnancy, 4.6cm I think, how cute! Then we were sent back to wait for the midwife to hear about my blood test results and the hundred other things I have remember to do over the next month.
Anyway, scan over, worry subsiding I can start to get on with things. Well I thought and then one of the cats really hurt me again yesterday by dive bombing into my stomach from great height. I’m sure they are trying to harm my baby, they have no thought or consideration! Anyway stomach cramps in tow we went to see French and Saunders live, only after a bit of retail therapy in Selfridges of course. The show was brilliant, it’s such a shame that it has to end when I have grown up watching their acts, bit of a staple diet actually. But 30 years is a long time and if I earned what they did, to be fair, I would give up too and do something that didn’t involve getting dressed of a morning. I think I would be very good at that!
So 2 weeks to go and we are off to Dubai for an extended weekend break for my husbands 30th. Can’t wait, great hotel, good food, non-alcoholic drinks, sunshine, a big bed… well as I have been told I am in enough trouble already and with what the pregnancy hormones have been doing to me in a fantastic way and not being able to get into any more trouble, I intend to have a pretty good time there! Besides my husband will be 30, it is time to celebrate and for these reasons it will be a bigger celebration: we are going to have a baby we both desperately want, this is the last holiday we will be able to take on our own for at least 18 years to come, the last holiday we will have for I don’t know how long, I won’t be able to celebrate Christmas, our 6th wedding anniversary or indeed my own or my best friend’s 30th Birthdays, well not in a traditional way and by then I will be very fat and not want to do much anyway, so now is the time to make up for it!! Watch out Dubai!
