don’t waste another minute on your cryin’

Sorry, part of my baby brain leads to random moments where I feel like my body is just a vessel for hosting Alan Thicke’s spirit.

That and what a difference a day makes!!

After the Confessions of a Panic Stricken Pregnant Lady yesterday, we grabbed my home birth list (that’s right… home birth.. we’ll get into it later) and went to go get as much crossed off as possible.   When we came home, the list was nearly complete, with bonus Gift From The Baby for Amy and even a mystery bag of cinnamon hearts to enjoy.

Well, as much as you can enjoy something when you are super dizzy and feeling faint.  But my Super Duper husband ran me a bath and we decided on a paint colour for the bathroom (because if I am going to labour in there, I really need to like the colour I am looking at).

And then I got out of the tub and changed my mind about the colour.

But I didn’t stress. Because the baby has 3 onesies now and some receiving blankets and I feel like I am totally ready.  Other than the whole getting up for feedings during the night, because right now when Amy wakes up 32084 time AT 2.5!!! it is all I can do not to run in her room, cover the walls with egg cartons and hope to soundproof that shit out of that thing so we can all GET SOME SLEEP!  Only the eggs we buy come in plastic containers (woo hoo environment – we do recycle them), so I know I can’t do it.  Plus.  There is NOTHING that can silence the beast within Ames when she decides that she doesn’t want anyone to sleep if she can’t.

Other than Noah’s brain.  That boy sleeps through it.  Every night.  And bounces out of bed in the morning saying “I had a BIG sleep!”, so impressed with himself and completely oblivious to the salt he is grinding into our wounds.

But HEY! I’ve Got Plastic Tablecloths! to sleep on whilst we await this bundle of awesome that is sure to pull the rug out from under us, just as we start to feel steady on our feet.  But I’m doing what I can to stay one step ahead… until he or she arrives.  At least I keep telling myself that.  We’ll see how it really goes come April.

Please let this baby wait until April.

 

B3 , Hamster

20 / 20

It feels like 10 minutes ago that we were packing up the house in England and preparing for a whole new life in Canada.  Only at that time we didn’t realise that a whole new life included a whole new life.

Then we went for that first ultrasound where we lost a month in our lives in the matter of 20 minutes.  Not in the way we lost something in that ultrasound back in June, but in a good way.  Or at least once we digested it, it was a good way.   When we – or at least I – realised that an arrival at the beginning of April was better than one in May because it meant that we were one month closer to me getting past that 6 month barrier where I go from totally freaking insane to borderline insane with a splash of normal.  And let’s be honest, my household cannot handle my complete crazy for too long.

So it sank in that we were having an April Fool and when it’s in a different year, it feels a safe distance away.  Like you have all the time in the world to prepare for the upheaval that a baby brings.  And you pretend it is not November because that means it is almost December which means it is almost next year.  But guess what?  Not only is it November, it is the second half of November and just like that we go from no baby on the way to half baked.

That’s right.  We’re on the 50 yard line!  It’s no longer a count up, but countdown.  20 weeks down and 20 weeks to go.  That’s it.  Except my mother believes that this is a boy and that he will follow in Noah’s footsteps of being late.  I agree with her on the boy, but I would like to hope she is wrong on the late bit.  I’ll allow a few days either side of the date, but I’m not down with over a week.  Not when I make babies the size of large watermelons.

And although they say this baby isn’t huge, which they said about Amy *ahem*, the feet speak otherwise.

Big Foot

So yeah, let’s keep growing bigger and stronger.  But concentrate more on the stronger, okay?  I’m still trying to master sneezing without peeing my pants over here.

 

Thinking

You go ahead and think that over.  If you agree to my terms, I promise not to name you “Roswell”.

November Remember Baby 043

Let’s start this post out with a photo.

 

There's Only One In There!

 

BAM.

It would appear that my lack of updating on this baby has resulted in a seed of jealously growing inside my belly right next to that baby that I don’t want to call Hamster.  Especially when, let’s face it, it looks likes I’m housing a full grown wooly mammoth rather than a tiny furry rodent.  My efforts to mask this pregnancy worse than any sitcom with their big purses and standing-behind-the-sofa shots has spurred this baby on to turn it’s bachelor pad into a Beyonce and Jay-Z sized nursery.  That’s right, there’s currently 2200 sq ft of baby house going on under that sweater.

At least it feels like it.  And it certainly looks like it.

I mean, let’s roll the clock back 4 years to when I was 19+4 with Noah.

BoB on Board

 

That is exactly one week more pregnant than I am in the photo by the falls this time around. There is a slight difference. And by slight, I’m talking an entire litter different.

I do not have an 18 week photo handy of Amy/Cheese.  However, I do have this:

Big Cheese

That is a full 7 weeks later with Amy than I am now.  And the belly is approximately the same size.

What the what?

I’d like to say it is all down to 3rd baby = slack muscles.  Or even better .. the difference between H&M Mama maternity jeans and Motherhood Maternity jeans, but I can’t.  Well I kind of can.  H&M were so much better.  Comfier, better fit, snugger on the bump.  I mean really? Pantyhose like material as the secret bump cover?  Who even thought that was a good idea?!?!

All I know is that I’ve gone from being convinced that there is a bouncing baby boy growing in there, to hoping the ultrasound on Friday uncovers a hidden twin or triplet.

That and I really shouldn’t wear grey and no lipstick.  The washed out lips almost distract from the watermelon in my sweater.