Paint and hedgehogs...

Today was a momentous day in our house: the nursery is finally decorated and all finished. Curtains up, lamp shade changed, cot assembled, changing unit ready, walls painted, wallpaper border firmly stuck and tiny clothes hanging in the wardrobe. We went for a unisex woodland theme in the end. I love it - hedgehogs everywhere!

The Other Half even bought the hedgehog shaped rug I had been bleating on about for the last month.

It's all starting to feel very real and imminent. And with six and a bit weeks to go, I really should pack my hospital bag.

Just in case.

And we still have no idea what a foot muff is for...

Who knew there were so many bloody makes of pram? Each with different terminology so you need a degree accredited by flaming Mothercare just to enter the store and be allowed to look at the displays. My mind has been spinning all the live long day. Strollers? 2-in1 prams? Travel systems? 3-wheelers? Tandems? (Actually - I think tandem is one we can safely cross off the list, since we know there is only one wriggler in there. At least I hope we can cross it off.) It really a minefield out there.

We've been into at least five separate shops - sometimes more than once - to compare things. And what did we discover? They're all con artists! The cheaper ones all feel like they've been built out of sticks and will implode and eat your baby. So you find something you think will work from the mid-priced section that meets all your criteria, see the price and think 'oh, well - that's not too bad.' Then you look closely and realise that the price is the pram frame only, and doesn't include the carrycot. Or the foot muff. Oh, and if you need a car seat, that's an extra £100. Plus the same again for the base. And don't forget your accessory pack - you might not be able to buy matching changing bags or parasols at a later date. By the time you've totted up the grand total, you've spent £750 quid on a flipping buggy without trying. And you still ask yourself what the hell a foot muff is, and do we need one?

In the end we decided to go for a model that was tall enough for The Other Half to push as well as me (it's always tricky, what with him being almost 6"5), would not involve taking out a second mortgage to pay for it, did not feel like it was made of matchsticks, and most importantly - could be collapsed one-handed without me bursting into tears in the middle of the shop crying that it's too heavy and I couldn't do it. It was tough, but we got there in the end - after several long hours beating away salespeople. And it'll be delivered next week so we have plenty of time to work out what a foot muff is actually for. Right, that's the pram sorted. Now for the cot...

Oh, and on the plus side, I was treated to a very nice chocolate milkshake in a diner this afternoon. Think it was for good behaviour, or at least good behaviour in the circumstances.

Pink or blue...

Yesterday, The Other Half and I trooped off to the hospital for another visit to the Antenatal wing - this time for the 20 week (anomaly) scan. Oh my god - that means we're halfway through! Eek! The sonographer spent ages checking the little wriggler's measurements (and it lived up to its name - it wouldn't stop wriggling! Squirmed about all over the shop then appeared to spend quite a lot of time with its backside in the air, mooning us - which resulted in some pretty rubbish scan photos), looking in detail at all its organs etc. (amazing to see its little heart beating in so much detail) and generally making sure everything is developing as it should be. It is, thankfully. Then came the question we'd been dreading because we didn't know the answer to it. 'Do you want to know the sex of the baby?'

Argh! Now, we have talked about this quite a lot. I said I would only want to find out if we didn't tell anyone else. The Other Half said he didn't think he'd be able to keep it to himself. Then we decided that we'd quite like the surprise, and the only reason people find out anyway is so they can start buying pink or blue clothes in advance, which is a bit of a rubbish reason to be honest. But when the sonographer asked, it suddenly dawned on us that this wasn't a hypothetical question anymore. We looked at each other, unsure, and I asked the sonographer if she knew what it was - 'Oh, I know the sex,' she replied. 'Do you want me to tell you?' Double argh! Yes but no!

We didn't, in the end. I think the surprise will be worth the hard work.

I just don't know what to do with myself...

I just can't concentrate at work at the minute. Hell, who am I kidding? I can't concentrate anywhere, on anything much at the minute. I'm not blaming anyone (okay, maybe I am...I say as I point to my stomach), but I just feel heavy and full and icky. (Yes, yes - it's not rocket science - I do know that I am pregnant.) According to all the websites I now look at daily (ahem - on my lunch break, of course), the little wriggler will be undergoing a massive growth spurt over the next few weeks and will be incredibly active. This however does not explain why I have to keep telling people at work to email instead of talking to me, because I'm liable to forget everything they say as I'm full of baby. Sigh.

Ooh, and I noticed today that my job (well, the maternity cover for my job) is now being advertised on work's website. Which I'm a bit puzzled about because it's only August and I'm not going anywhere until probably mid-December. Hmmm. Talk about getting a head start. On a different work-related note, I find myself being extremely easily irritated of late. Especially by people who sit over the other side of the office and sneeze at a decibel level I didn't think was possible for a human to reach, WITHOUT COVERING THEIR NOSES. I mean, how difficult is it? Not only do they offend my ears but they don't bother to take the simplest hygiene precautions in the middle of an epidemic when half the office seems to be off with swine flu.

Smelly auld hippies.

Gathering up the gang...

On Thursday some gal pals came round for a catch up over food - probably my last chance to cook for them all for a long while as one friend, S, is leaving our Northern realm to start her new life in Cardiff in a couple of weeks. It was a lovely, proper girly gossipy evening - and so nice as we haven't all been together in what feels like a long time. I made the gang:

Greek souvlaki with tzatziki
Mediterranean couscous salad
Served with flavoured olives, warm pitta bread, lemon drizzled rocket and avocado
And for dessert - Hot chocolate fudge cake

Yum! And it all went down well. The Other Half even poked his head in the dining room to hoover up the leftovers.

Last night we attended a family wedding party - the evening reception (the couple were married in a small ceremony last week - I think it was her second and his third wedding!). We didn't stay too long though - The Other Half and I only really knew each other and it's not much fun at all when I'm sticking to water because I couldn't face any more sickly sweet coke or lemonade, and he's joining me out of sympathy! Plus we had all manner of random strangers come up to us to wish us well (which we don't mind at all), and bestow their sage advice and old wives' tales upon us (grin and bear it through gritted teeth). Apparently I am going to have a boy as I'm all bump up front. (Where the hell else is the bump meant to go?!)

Speaking of the bump, yesterday was also a turning point as I felt the baby move for the first time! It's amazing - I knew instantly what it was, feels like there's a giant butterfly in there fluttering about. A bit squirmy and wriggly, too - as if it's turning over and trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. And since that first recognisable squirm, it hasn't stopped moving! From here on in I shall refer to the wee one as the little wriggler. The Other Half can't feel anything yet - but it'll only be a matter of weeks until hopefully he can make out an elbow or foot!

In six months time...

I got a flavour of life with a newborn, tonight. A work pal and I went to visit another gal from work who just had a baby girl. We were instructed not to dare enter their house without food, so we stopped off at the supermarket for lots of chocolate pudding. Ah, the baby is gorgeous. And teeny! If I wasn't already up the duff I'd be going home and complaining to The Other Half that I think it's high time I should be.

They're coping really well. Really nailed the whole nappy-changing malarkey, and they even made our dinner! I know that my house will be the scene of utter devastation by comparison in six months, and that will really irk my neat-freak hubby. Tomorrow I'm having tea with some more work pals, then off to see my sister who's up from the big smoke for her birthday. A better week than the last, at least. Think I'm starting to feel a bit better on the whole sickness front, too. Fingers crossed.

And just in case you were wondering, The Hoff story is correct. His ex-wife Catherine married an actor named Michael Knight in 1992. Wow. Some urban myths really are true. According to Google.

More jelly on my belly...

We (t'Other Half and I) trundled off to the hospital for our re-scan today - and we now have an official due date! Today I am 12 weeks + 4 days pregnant and the baby is apparently due on 4th January. Which is the date I'll have to go with even though I don't agree with it as it'll be on all my official forms for maternity leave etc. Hmmm. I work it out to be nearer the original date that the midwife gave me, 29th December. Oh well. (And you can use your imagination as to how I can work it out. Let's just say we only needed to try once and you get the idea.)

This is the third due date I've been given actually, 29th Dec first, then it moved to 31st Dec...and now 4th Jan. Whatever - this baby will turn up somewhere around New Year. (I've now jinxed it all and bubs will decide to make an appearance mid-Jan, and give me two weeks of overdue hell.) The hospital folk carried out some tests today, too - and took some more blood (I've never had so many blood tests in my life) to do the nuchal fold combined test which assesses the likelihood of the baby having Down's Syndrome, the results of which I'll get soon. But everything else looked fine according to them.

And at least they had the decency to warm up that sodding gel before plastering it over my stomach this time. By god, it was cold last week. It's all over my jeans, though.

It's all so very twee...

Short post today as I can't really be bothered, if I'm frank. I promise to have interesting things to write about (and actually be arsed to write them) very soon. Ooh, actually, this is good news and worth shouting about: The Other Half started his new job today. Woohoo! Well done him, it hasn't taken him long at all really - and he's slogged his heart and soul out to find a decent role. And I'm not 100% sure exactly what the job is...something to do with online marketing?? I'll really have to learn. Bad wife.

It was Fathers' Day yesterday - and I made The Other Half a little card from the bump. Overly-sentimental, syrupy and corny? Yes. But hell, this might only happen once so I feel no shame milking every soppy occasion for all its worth!

The vampire attacks...

The Other Half and I have a rare long weekend off together this weekend - ahead of him starting his new job on Tuesday. Normally we'd go out for sushi but that's gone out of the bloody window now. Sigh. Ah well. It was also my first appointment with the community midwife today. My gawd. Now, I'm not normally funny about needles and the like, but flamin' Nora did she take a lot of blood from me! It was one of those little tap things they spike your arm with and keep filling up many, many vials from...eight, to be exact. Eight vials of blood! I'm positive she took them home to drink, there can't be that many nasty blood disorder things to test for, surely?!

Anyway, aside from the stream of blood leaking from my arm and supplying the local vampire shack with their supper, we filled in lots of forms. LOTS. They covered everything from my job and health records to screening tests and what I had for breakfast. Well, perhaps not the latter- but we may as well have covered that because it felt like we touched upon everything else. For some odd reason, this first appointment with the midwife is called a 'booking in' appointment. Not sure why. Maybe all the form-filling means you're officially booked in to give birth at some point.

The midwife gave me a knowing smile when I told her I hadn't had any sickness. "Oh, give it a bit longer. It usually starts around 8-9 weeks." Fantastic. So now I've got puking to look forward to, along with excessive tiredness and wanting to go to bed at 7pm. How delightful.

Meet the parents...

Well, we decided to tell the parents our little secret today as we'd be seeing both sets. (And it's becoming increasingly difficult to answer questions honestly when they ask what's new and how things are going...plus I can't always remember which white lies I've told them so things could potentially get a tad confused.) Anyway, they were all delighted. Although my dad didn't say much at first, and did look The Other Half up and down in a suspicious 'what have you been doing to my daughter?' manner. Yes, Dad - we've been married for almost three years, did you not see this coming eventually?

In other news, I'm very proud of The Other Half. 'Twas his last day at work on Friday but he starts his new job in just over a week. Good on ya, lad.

And now for the good news...

Which brings me now to the good news - as you have to follow such tidings of bad news on a more positive note. And I'm happy to say the good news is something we're very happy about. Now, I'm in the future writing this as if it's the present - so pay attention. (It's wearing thin on me already, don't worry. I don't plan on doing this retrospective lark much longer - not sure how much of this mix of tenses my head can take!)

Okaaaay. I've been feeling poorly all week, you'll know because I've harped on about it enough. But certain things started to ring alarm bells in my head. Tiredness. Thirsty all the time. Not hungry. Funny sicky feelings. Headaches. And, to top it off - I was late. (But that says nothing as I'm about as on time as relying on catching a bus when you're in a hurry.) So, I decided to take a test. You can see where I'm going with this, I'm sure. Yes, ladies and gents - I am now a pregnant lady. And the doctor is prepared to take my word for it and booked me in to see the midwife as soon as possible as I've taken four positive tests (just to be sure!).

We're absolutely delighted - we'd talked about trying previously over Christmas, then just sort of forgot about it then remembered and decided to go for it in March. Who knew that'd be all it took?! We'd decided not to mention the good news to anyone (parents included) until the bad news had sorted itself out. Hence the retrospective blogging. Bit rubbish on the old timing front, but hey. So there you go. There'll be an ankle biter in the house by New Year's Eve, hopefully!