Give or take a week we’re here, nine months. What you don’t realise, at least I didn’t, is that 40weeks is more like ten months than nine and most first pregnancies are overdue. So basically this little guy could arrive tomorrow or in a month, let’s hope for somewhere in the middle.
I’ve been really lucky these last few months I think. I’ve not had much to complain about and in fact have enjoyed being pregnant. Creating a person is such an incredible thing and it really is amazing what your body can do. Each week has its own excitements from reading how the baby has developed that week, starting to feel the little guy moving around to now the constant jabbing of my ribs and little hard bum poking out of my stomach. I’m not sure I can say everything is ready, but we have the essentials; Moses basket, car seat and some of the cutest baby clothes I’ve ever seen. If we have a lazy little baba we might even have the nursery complete. Most importantly though last Monday I had my little baby shower/spa day. I can highly recommend opting for mother to be massage and lazing around a pool all day over cakes, mocktails and a million baby presents. Though my wonderful friends brought me a few presents anyway despite being told not to.
I guess by now I should be fed up and desperate for the baby to be here. I can’t say I’ve reached that point though. The heartburn maybe getting worse by the day, I have found myself literally drinking Peptac, and my hands and feet are now so swollen that neither my rings nor many shoes fit, not only attractive but practical in zero degree Glasgow. But I’m still enjoying the excitement of not knowing who this baby is going to be or when they’re going to arrive.