Hello Little Round Ball (’cause there is no way you are a speck anymore, its a round ball down in there… you’re still my Speck, but your house is shaped more like a ball),
how are you? I’m tired again. Exhausted in fact. Yes, I know I’m commuting Sydney-Brisbane, and that is a bit tiring, but I’m disproportionally tired. It started last week. The weekend was good but I could barely keep my eyes open at night. We went to G&Ks for a barbeque on Friday night and it was only 8:15pm when I had to leave and go home – I was going to fall asleep at the table.
You on the other hand have been moving around like you’re in an aerobics championship. You’ve got some new moves too – they started on Saturday. Lying in bed on Saturday morning I noticed something different. You now do big sweeping movements with feet and or hands – right across my belly. If you can think of someone washing the inside of a car windscreen with big round movements, that’s what it feels like you’re doing. Lots of that and less of the one-off kicking. It feels pretty freaky to be honest. It just lasts so long. I think the short sharp kicks were easier to deal with. And you’re definitely growing at a rapid rate, as now when I feel you moving around – I feel as though I can tell where your head, legs and arms are pretty often. And every time you’re wiggling about and doing tumble turns. Which is frequently.
I couldn’t sleep last night. After a while, you woke up too and started to do the calesthenics. You kick really hard now – if I’m looking at my stomach I think I can almost see where your foot pokes the stomach out. Anyway, I figured that I may as well practice ‘training you in acrobatics’ for fun, like the girl I work with is going to do with her baby. I thought it was a bit of a joke, but pushed just where you had kicked, and then you thumped back even harder than the first time. I moved my fingers a few cm along my stomach from where the original kick was and pushed again, and, surprise, you moved and kicked back in the new position. Funny. I did it a few times after which you settled down again. I then gave you a massage, which you seemed to like. I’m starting to feel now that you’re really a little person in there. Before you were just a ‘baby’. Some kind of growing blob. Now you are starting to feel more and more real. I had a chat to you last night while massaging and I was wondering what you were thinking. ‘Cause I think you’re thinking now. I wish you’re Dad could feel these changes in you too – I think its definitely part of the ‘mum’ gets used to baby coming along part of being pregnant for nine months. Last night you felt like a boy to me. A month ago while walking home one night I had a premonition that you were a girl. So, I obviously don’t know.
We went and met your obstetrician in Brisbane last Friday. He is very relaxed. He told me to eat anything, just avoid bungee jumping and advised not to take up heroin at this point. I think I can manage that. Your dad and I were surprised when we looked at the chart to see how big you are now. No wonder I can feel you – you’re much bigger than a coke can (which is where I thought you were at). I guess you won’t know him, but be reassured he is a very amicable person who seems supportive of what we want to do in the birth. He is apparently well-known for only intervening and doing a c-section if absolutely necessary – chatting to him about this made me feel like he would be the right person to help us along. I still wish to some extent that the model of care offered in Australia was more flexible though – while I like him, I’d also like for us to be able to choose our own midwife to come along and be there before, during and after your birth. That’s not an option with the way the hospitals and medical system works today. Which I think is a travesty. But, ce la vie. I guess you take what you can get and make what you will with it. Hopefully your Dad and I will cope regardless. As the doctor emphasised, the birth is going to be the ‘easy’ bit in retrospect. Yep, it will be hard, and stressful, and most likely hurt a lot, but it will be over pretty quickly. Wheras you’ll be with us for a long time afterwards. To worry about forever more.
kisses
mum.
Hi again Speck
I wonder if you already know this ….hmm…. most likely not as you’re mainly connected to Mum.. however I almost was privileged to feel your new aerobic move across your Mum’s tum last Sunday when we went to the movies. In the middle of The Watchmen ( a pretty scary sci fi/comic strip movie with superheroes immersed in Nixon’s America n consequent graphic violence) your Mum grabbed my hand n held it above your home for ages n ages. Obviously you had been racking up the tumble-turn and wind-screen wiper rate. To no avail however. I felt no action. You were then 24 weeks n 3 days in your huma-marine environment. Your attention to exercise reminds me I must take the dog for a walk – first morning this week that I’ve had the chance. If I go now the parrots and cockatoos will squark and ring out around us in the bush. I’m off.
Love
Grandma
I wonder if that’s the same obstretician Melissa had – that’s exactly what she got told…
hmm. yes i’d appreciate a sister with no heroin addiction please, same with crack baby(aka nephew)
My lovely GP told me ” Mums have 9 months to get used to the idea of baby before it arrives, Dads often take another 9 months after the birth for it to really sink in.” And in my experience, I felt this to be kinda true…
And yes, such a fuss is made about the pregnancy (and it is sooo special!) but the *#!* really hits the fan for the bit after. That’s when you really need your emergency (psychological) plans.
You’ll be right, love. Actually, you’ll be great.
x Aysh