Nope, Still Pregnant

I was going to do a play on the whole 'apologies for the pregnant pause' thing, as it has been *a while* since my last post, but my sense of humour seems to have deserted me.

I am so chuffing pregnant.

So much for our tax baby. Apparently creature #2 gets her financial acumen from her father, and is showing no signs of arriving in a fiscally timely manner.

I have tried everything to get her out:

Walking: 4-5 miles a day over Christmas and the weekend. I thought this was more or less guaranteed, as I've convinced myself this was what brought on labour with Anna. But no, no baby for you!

Shagging: LK's response 'there's not enough gin'.

Trampolining: Yes I'm that desperate. No, it wasn't pretty, and I couldn't keep it up for more than 10 bounces at a time without needing to go to the loo. Come to think of it, the same happened with the shagging too.....

Breast Pump: Ahh, my old nemesis. Got milk? Yes. Baby? No.

Spicy Food: Indian food for lunch. I think the ensuing crampiness was indigestion though, although you should have seen LK's face when I told him I thought I felt a twinge. Possibly delight at welcoming a second child, or euphoria over not being approached to do the wild thing again.

Induction: My doctor's response 'but I'm not on call this week'. Me (under my breath as I'm terminally British) 'I don't care if it's you or not mate, any muppet can catch a baby'. When I tried a different tack and suggested that creature #2 is on the large side and that I didn't want a repeat of the great-rending-0f-2005 he said 'well, we know you're capable, you've done it before'. *Sigh*. Have decided not to wash my feet before my next appointment with him and the stirrups. That'll teach him!

Cleaning Floors: Nobody needs to have a baby that badly.

A Maternity Wardrobe That Works

This is going to sound like a shameless plug, except I'm not getting paid a dime, and after all, this is a lot of what blogging means to me personally - sharing stories, advice and ideas.

It's not easy to dress for work when you've got a belly the size of a regular at the Rovers Return. When I was pregnant with Anna I was tearing my hair out looking for reasonably-priced maternity trousers that had more than a 32" inseam (go ahead - hate me). In borrowed maternity 'pants' I looked like a pregnant sailor, even in flats. Fortunately it was early summer and I could resort to capris and skirts. Now I'm in the depths of November, and even in Southern California capris could leave you feeling a little exposed around the ankles. It is after all raining today.

I was truly dreading a return to maternity trousers. I know that vanity would seem to be the first thing out the window during pregnancy, but every little helps in terms of self-esteem, and not having to wear clown trousers was a big deal to me. I hated them with a passion, and I thought they were unavoidable. Apparently not though, and why? - because several months ago I read this post from agirlandaboy, and thought, hmm, crazy, but that might just work.

I bought two 'Bella Bands' at a local maternity shop, one black, one white, and while it does seem a little pricey for a tube of elasticated material these things have quite literally saved my maternity wardrobe, my dignity and my self-esteem. (I swear I'm not getting paid to say this).

I am 8 months pregnant and still wearing my normal work trousers.

I know - no ridiculous sums of money spent on hideous polyester trousers that just barely graze my ankle. Every single day I am gobsmacked that these giant elastic bands are holding up the impossible. They seem to defy the laws of physics. My fly is wide open but covered with elastic and I have yet to cause people to scream or faint at the sight of the unthinkable. I'll agree that it's much easier with some trousers than others (some with an exposed zip that can rub bare flesh are an obvious no-no even if you do like wearing Granny knickers) but most quality tailored trousers have some fabric between the zipper and your flesh, so wearing the zip down all day is perfectly comfortable. The same goes for button-jeans. I suppose the principle doesn't apply if your arse has grown as astronomically as your belly, but fortunately that doesn't seem to be the case for me - either that or I had naturally roomy-in-the-arse work trousers.

I've heard tell that the same product can be bought for half the price at Motherhood Maternity - but everything I've ever bought there has been a complete travesty of polyester and poor fit, so I couldn't tell you.

Anyway, in conclusion, if you know any leggy pregnant women, suggest the Bella Band, it'll save them hundreds of dollars in embarrassing pant-age.

End of gratuitous plug.

She Didn't Get The Memo

What kind of mother criticizes her daughter's weight? One that still has to push her out through her unmentionables, that's who. I finally had my rescheduled ultrasound yesterday. Just goes to show there's no point worrying about something, because as soon as you do the cosmic joker will hand you something much more impressive to get your knickers in a twist about.

Did I mention the fire?

Sorry, old news.

Well, apparently creature #2 did not get the memo about a two-vessel umbilical cord hindering growth. She is already 4lbs 130z by their estimates. A whopping 1lb heavier than the 'average' baby at this point. My perineum is already waving the white flag.

How did she and I manage this??! I appreciate that ultrasound is a notoriously inaccurate way to measure approximate foetal weight, but I have to give the doctor credit, all signs point to yes on this one. I have revised my Christmas plans and now intend to start high-intensity aerobics the minute the turkey has been carved. I am not planning on a 10lb baby. As LK and I walked & waddled back from the appointment I let him know that this will be our last child. If I can produce a potential 10lb baby with a dodgy cord and no sign of gestational diabetes then I will not risk a 15 pounder next time. Good grief. Am I gestating babies or turkeys?

After the initial shock that I was harbouring an elephant had waned, there was a little disappointment in that I'd expected to see more of her, but she is so squashed in there that he couldn't get a decent facial shot. This is the best they could do:




Is it just me or is she scowling?















Anyway, gorgeous I think you'll agree. For an elephant.

Cease & Desist

Dear Creature #2,

While I am not yet ready for you to 'drop' and spend the next several weeks feeling like I have a bowling ball in my knickers, I would appreciate it if you'd stop looking for every available exit. There is no fabled 'northerly passage'. Please stop trying to break out through my digestive system. Every exploratory probe is sending stomach acid searing upwards. I am tired of people asking whether I'm 'carrying high' or if it is indeed the world's largest goiter.

In return I promise I'll try and take it a bit easier and limit the intake of crap food. Oh, and I promise I won't call you Chastity, or Britknee.

Love, Mum

------

That letter was composed at around 3am last night as I lay awake miserable with creature #2 partying like it was 1999 in my belly. 'Lay' awake is a bit of a misnomer, as anything other than a sitting position left me wracked with heartburn. Of course, I can't blame her totally, I have started eating jar after jar of pink grapefruit (that's 5-6 grapefruit per jar) so some of the acid may be self-inflicted (ya think?).

Besides, she can party all she wants, as long as it reassures me she's literally alive and kicking. I have another ultrasound tomorrow, officially beginning my 'high-risk pregnancy lets beat the number of times you can see a doctor a week record'. I am excited to get to see her - I've only ever had ultrasounds at 18-20 weeks before so I've only ever seen skeletal babies. Creature #2 could now theoretically make it on the outside, so she'll look like a proper baby. Of course that's my concern. She could make it on the outside, and because of the 2-vessel cord issue they may decide she needs to, and after the debacle of the last ultrasound you can guarantee I won't just be lying awake with heartburn tonight.....

Double Stroller Advice Needed

Sorry, this is an automatic switch-off for anyone without any kids (or quite frankly anyone with anything better to do). I'm trying to decide whether to invest in a double stroller. Any suggestions? Anna will be 3 1/2 when creature #2 makes her debut. We had considered not getting a double stroller and just using a sling for the newbie and our trusted Bob for Anna if necessary. Is a stroller even necessary once a child reaches 4-ish? I'd thought not, but on reflection it certainly makes shopping easier to have her confined and not whining or walking at..........the.........slowest........pace...........of........all..........time (and pointing out every leaf/dandelion/'treasure' in our path).

We chuffing love our Bob, it's even flown with us to the UK more than once, but a double Bob just fills me with fear. There's no popping in and out of shops with this thing:















Someone suggested this from Phil and Teds:






























and despite the fact that we'd have to take out a mortgage to acquire it (LK's flat-screen fund is not looking good), it is seeming to make more and more sense. The key for me is that it's a jogger, so I could still go out and run off this lard I'm accumulating. We spend a lot of time walking around town or running down by the beach. Yet (unlike me) it's not the size of a small aircraft carrier. Plus the terrible twosome won't be sitting next to each other and poking each other into a frenzy of crying. Also, the re-sale on these things is better than a chuffing Honda Pilot (I'm not kidding, we could still get $$$$ for our 2 year old Bob dubious stains notwithstanding).

Also - more importantly, does it come with cupholders? and if Anna farts (and bear in mind she is related to my brother) will she kill her sibling instantly????

Any thoughts? Recommendations?

More Tricky Than Treaty

I need your help - any suggestions on what a heavily pregnant woman can go as for Halloween?

I've had some suggestions ranging from the hilarious but vague (Sarah Palin's daughter) to the just plain rude (a humpback whale - thanks Anna).

My costume of preference would be me, in my pajamas lying on a couch surrounded by candy wrappers, but that's a little hard to pull off at somebody else's party.

Any thoughts?

Size of a Cow

I'm not that big, but I'm not really that small either. Being pregnant has taught me many things, one of them being that people generally don't have a f**king clue how big you're supposed to be at 25 weeks, 32 weeks, 40 weeks etc - but they'll certainly feel free to tell you how they think you should look. All babies grow differently, placentas attach in different places, and we all have a different amount of room between our pelvis and our rib cage. So, while it may sting a little for my uncle, a retired GP to say 'you're on the large side for 28 weeks' (after I'd already lied because I wasn't quite at 27 weeks) I'm just going to have suck it up. What does he know? He's probably only seen three maybe four hundred thousand pregnant woman in his career. That means nothing. They were all in the north of England and probably starved for decent food.

I've decided my response to people saying 'wow that's going to be a big baby' will be, 'not as big as your mouth'. Then I'm going to punch them in the neck.

If I weigh myself in the morning I've put on a *scant* 17lbs, just before I go to bed it's climbed to 21lbs. All completely normal. LK continues to be a superhero (probably because he realizes how close to neck-punching I'm getting). Last night after I dragged my massive frame up the stairs and vowed that this will be my last child, he said he thought I was handling it all much better than last time. I'm not sure I believe him, but it was a sweet thing to say. His neck is safe for a few more hours.

Most of the time I feel pretty good. I make comic grunting sounds whenever I have to pick something up off the floor (I'm seriously considering investing in one of those pooper-scooper doo-dads for clearing the carpet of Anna's positive zoo of plastic creatures). I can no longer bend straight down, instead I have to bow my knees akimbo to make room for the belly. My lower back is getting a little achy, but then I am still going to a weight-lifting class, so presumably I only have myself to blame. I can still run around after Anna, even if she pushes the envelope and breaks in to a sprint at the park and makes a bee-line for moving traffic. I can still sneeze without peeing, but only if I cross my legs fast enough.

My Mum reminded me about kegel excercises helping the perineum pre-birth. Apparently it reduces the risk of tearing. I'm not sure I have a perineum these days though, and I'm certainly not about to check. My theory on birthing this second baby is: do no kegel exercises, maintain no pelvic floor muscle tone and the baby will simply fall out while on the way to the car one morning. Perfect.

While seeing a 20lb weight gain admittedly did give me a good old scare last night (I only weigh myself about once a week) the thing I'm having the most problems with is the hunger. I am constantly thinking about food. Whilst eating one thing I'm already deciding what to eat next. I'm making bad decisions, eating a lot of rubbish because I'm too lazy to forage for a carrot. Or I'll eat the carrot in lieu of a marshmallow, but then I'll eat the marshmallow too. I am ready for the hunger to subside, I feel like a calorie black hole. I feel genuinely sorry for people who experience this level of hunger day in day out. I had my 1 hour glucose tolerance test last week, and was really quite surprised that I didn't get the call telling me I'd failed. I have been craving sugar to such an extent that I'd convinced myself I had gestational diabetes. I think the real answer is I'm working more or less full time, running around after Anna constantly, and I'm craving sugar because I'm tired. Really chuffing tired. If you're finding it hard to muster the energy to get off the couch and find that princess crown/plastic meer cat/Lion King DVD it's hard to make the right choice between a tomato or a handful (bagful) of ketel corn.

LK will say that I'm merely the vessel and creature #2 is the one in control. If I'm hungry, eat, and after all if she's only got a partially functioning umbilical cord, maybe now is not the time to diet. So I'm compromising, stuffing my face but also exercising a lot. Lots of walking round the neighbourhood, pushing my 30lb 3 year old in her jogger whilst trying not to nick a swig of her chocolate milk.

Basically I'm trying not to think about the possibility of a 10lb baby.

Belly Laughs

Stupid/bizarre/WTF things people have said to me during this pregnancy:


"Oh, you didn't sound pregnant on the phone"

"A girl? Looks like you're going to have to go for a third to get your boy"

"Well, your weight's 'bumped up a bit' " (my doctor on learning of my 7lb in 1 month weight gain)

"Don't get too big" (asinine friend of my MIL)

"Wow, I'd hate to see how big you got if you were to have a third"

"Jesus fucking Christ, if I hear one more thing about your weight........ you're pregnant for God's sake,......bloody hell, you're going to get bigger, deal with it..............................................and er, you've never looked more beautiful?" - LK

Make Me A Chuffing Baby

I stole this idea from A Girl and A Boy, and thought how interesting it would be to try when you already know the results.

What the chuff am I blathering about??

OK, sorry, makemebabies.com. A site where you take a picture of you:





(I have no pride)




then a picture of the alleged father:






(Woof!)












Plug the two photos in to the site, and lo and behold it produces your spawn:

A little uncanny, no? Certainly, her hair has never looked that presentable, but that's a pretty damn accurate photo-fit of our little 3 year old.

Hmmm.

So, it got me thinking. People are always saying that LK looks a little like Jon Bon Jovi, and quite frankly who am I to contradict - having spent most of my formative years in the library or watching Match of the Day, I wouldn't have known quite frankly. All I recognized was someone I knew I wouldn't want to kick out of bed in the next 50 years.

Ahem, anyway. So, I put it to the test. I plugged in my photo, and a photo of JBJ:



























And, you will be as amazed as I was at the results. Look at our potential daughter:

Quite.

I think the sunglasses may have thrown them off a little off (yah think?), either that or one of us has some latent African heritage that only this website can pick up on.

Anyway, it made me laugh. I think I'll settle for the DNA donor I've got thankyou very much.

....and Pete, you'll never know how much restraint it took for me not to try it for you and the missus. Feel free to share the results with me though, if you feel so inclined.....

Baby's First Christmas FROM HELL

Wow, who knew there were so many Capricorns out there? But, seeing as how you have so happily volunteered the information, I have a question. Can there be a worse time for a birthday?

I suppose I'm making sweeping religious assumptions here, but isn't having your birthday around Christmas a complete nightmare? For the length of time it took us to get baby #2 on board, the idea of quibbling about her birth date seems both churlish and absurd (although the idea of a late December 'tax baby' is not to be sneezed at). I do know people who have abstained from 'trying' in late March/early April for fear of conceiving a Christmas baby. We also know someone born on Christmas Day, which is both unfortunate, and a distinct possibility for us.

What I was surprised at, is how many other people I know who are also knocked up and expecting at the exact same time as us. LK's tennis partner is due the day after us, for example. Why is this time of year so popular? We all know that there are a lot of September birthdays because there are a lot of drunk people gettin' busy around the holidays, but surely no-one would aim to have a baby over the holidays?

I can only assume that it's only after the deed is done - for most people - that you start to think about the timing of the birth. Poor old Anna is early June, which if we stay here is no big deal, but if we ever moved back to the UK it would mean her birthday would fall during exam time for her entire school and University career. Thanks Mum! On the plus side, it's far enough away from the holidays to not have the dreaded 'double present' issue, and it's a week after the Nordstrom half-yearly sale, so she always ends up getting fabulous clothes as gifts.

This creature is highly likely to make landfall within a two-week radius of Christmas. I know they are unlikely to let me 'go long' as Anna was so big last time, and she's a little more likely to be born early due to me gifting her with a dodgey umbilical cord, so keep your fingers crossed (and I shall likewise keep my legs crossed) that it's not Christmas.

That aside, is it miserable to have a birthday that close to the holidays? Are you doomed to receive double presents? Does no-one come to your party? Are people hastily removing the 'New Years knockdown' price-tags from your gifts? Am I being completely insane?

You're probably just glad to be here at all - as I should be with creature #2, but I can't stop wondering. What's the story?

Single Umbilical Artery

S.U.A.

She's. Utterly. Appropriate.

The results are in and she's fine. I feel like screaming "I'm going to have a baby!!"























Huge sigh of relief. We called everyone we could that were in appropriate time-zones and then I collapsed in complete exhaustion, the released pent-up fear of the last week (months?) leaving me like a punctured blow-up doll.

It was so disconcerting to feel the squirms and kicks of this daughter-to-be whilst not knowing her fate. Almost as if I couldn't allow myself to continue bonding.

It's amazing how quickly that feeling of euphoria at the results was followed by a sudden willingness to accept the cold, hard facts of the situation. Well of course everything was fine, the doctor said as much, and my bloodwork was excellent. Why the anxiety? The fact that I may still have a small baby (ha!) or an early baby (please not Christmas) or that she may have kidney problems seem so trivial, so, fixable that I am on cloud nine.

I'm having a chuffing baby!

What Were You Thinking?

*****I wrote this a few days ago, before the whole single uterine artery ultrasound debacle. The good news is, everything else we're dealing with is certainly helping to distract from the 'what ifs' of waiting for our amnio results. If you needed telling though, this post goes a long way to explain how attached I am already to this fledgling creature of ours, how devastating a blow the news was on Monday, and how much we have vested in her health and survival.

Thankyou all for your overwhelmingly kind thoughts and personal stories (by way of iVillage). I may have dissolved in to tears at the mere mention of this with some of you, (isn't it so much easier to hide behind a computer?), but I have appreciated your support nonetheless.********


*************************************************


One question I'm surprised I haven't been asked during this pregnancy is, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!

Or maybe it's just that no-one's said it to my face.

It would be perfectly understandable, given how much time I've devoted lately to bemoaning our financial state of affairs and generally uncertain future.

Why would anyone choose to have another child when things were looking so grim? And yes, we did choose to get pregnant. As I once said to LK 'what if I accidentally get pregnant?' and he replied 'Mrs K, I've seen how you behave with our bank account, you're never going to be accidentally anything'.

That is the crux of the issue believe it or not. No, it's certainly not the best of times to be adding a new addition to this sinking ship, but given how long it took to add this creature I can't for one minute feel bad about this pregnancy.

Getting pregnant with Anna took all of 14 days. We'd decided to 'stop trying not to get pregnant' after I finished the SB Triathlon - I'd decided I didn't want to run the race pregnant after all, I'm physically challenged enough as it is. Literally 4 weeks after the race I told LK we were knocked up and he could not believe it. Dreams of months of 'practice' suddenly turned in to months of 'don't touch or I'll slap you'.

Me saying 'he shoots he scores' was poor consolation.

Naturally, when it came time to think about a sibling for Anna we were cautious. Old fertile Myrtle here could plan sprog-dropping to the very week. Or so I thought.

One year plus of failing to produce was probably a very long-overdue wake-up call, teaching me to respect the miracle that is conception and gestation.

I can say that now of course. For an entire year, I smiled but couldn't quite look in the eye the countless millions of pregnant women I encountered on a daily basis. When people would ask if we were going to have any more I would say 'yes, but not right now', and would then have to sit through their well-meant assvice about siblings not being too far apart in age etc. In actual fact I would have loved Anna to be closer in age to her brother/sister. My brother and I are only 13 months apart, and after 16 years of blood, sweat and tears we are now close. Or maybe that's just because we're 8,000 miles apart?!

I also had 'suggestions' that while our decision to have children 'later' in our marriage 'on many levels looks like a good idea, no-one who does that ever thinks about the grandparents and the fact that they miss out on seeing their grandkids grow up'. What a fantastic guilt trip. Maybe we were thinking about the grandparents during conception. Maybe that was the problem....

More likely the issue was stress. That would certainly explain why I finally got pregnant within days of coming home from holiday. Or perhaps it was the fact that Anna was sleeping in our bed until just before she turned 3.

Either way, finding out you can't get pregnant when you want to is soul-destroying. Many finer writers than me have more eloquently described their battles. Fertility issues that make our year-long silent struggle a blip on the radar, a petulant cough in the face of full blown pneumonia. This brilliant card from the amazing a little pregnant continues to crack me up, especially as it now sounds rather like us.

























How easy to write about it now. It feels a bit like cheating really, and I know that what we went through is absolutely nothing compared to the lengths some people have to go to in order to conceive a healthy child. I stopped going to my Mum's group because after the first year it became BYOB (and not the good kind). I think there were 3 Mum's out of a pool of 40 who were not pregnant within 2 years of having their first. The Bring Your Own Baby crowd rightly needed each other, but to my insecure mind it became an impenetrable fertility club.

I kept telling myself that some of my very favourite people came from families, close families, with 5 year plus age gaps between kids, or no siblings at all. Hi Mooks! Hi Jen! It is so hard to maintain perspective though. Something I've realized now that our kids will be 3.5 years apart and so many people are seeming to crawl out of the woodwork with the children of the same age gap. Where were you all six months ago? It's not that they've suddenly appeared, they were just hiding in plain sight. I could not see them because I'd become so obsessed with not conceiving.

I can't imagine what if must be like to not be able to conceive and carry a much-wanted first child. Unless you had problems first time round no-one ever assumes a second child will be an issue. A 3 year plus age difference is assumed to be a willful act. Unless you advertise the fact that it's not all plain sailing, people will assume you've made the decision not to have another child straight away. I had one Mum at Anna's preschool describe her as an 'only child' when she wasn't even 3. A throwaway comment to her no doubt, but it just added to my feeling of panic. With each passing month I would see Anna's chance of a meaningful relationship with her future sibling become more and more unlikely.

I made the fatal error of researching fertility on the internet. There is an entire class of infertility called 'secondary infertility' for the unexplained inability to conceive a second child. A type of infertility that makes up 60% of all recorded cases. How's that for scaring you shitless?

So I booked an appointment with my doctor to discuss our 'infertility' and promptly arrived at her office, the requisite 6 weeks later, pregnant with this creature.

There have been many times within the last two years where I have been very thankful that we have not added a screaming infant, another childcare payment and time off work in to the mix. Who knows if it's pregnancy hormones, or just a long overdue sigh of relief but I have not once thought twice about this creature nor looked forward to it's arrival without immense joy. It's even more sweet given what we've been through, especially because I spent most of my pregnancy with Anna in bewildered apprehension about what was to come.

I realize that we still have a long way to go until I have this little one in my arms, but I could not be happier at the thought.

Tempting Fate

Well, we didn't quite get what we were hoping for with the ultrasound.

It's a girl, which makes me very happy.

Unfortunately there were issues present which resulted in me having an amnio this morning. We discovered the baby had a two vessel cord, or single umbilical artery. A link not for the faint of heart I might add.

My blood test results were fantastic, apparently I screen as if I'm a 19 year old woman (a fact that caused a raised eyebrow from LK I can assure you). The other potential markers for abnormalities were good. Baby K looked like a perfect little foetus, all except for that umbilical cord. An amnio was given as an option, but not pushed on us. The doctor and staff were lovely. It was an incredibly hard decision to make, but I knew that I would not be able to stand the uncertainty of the next few months, and LK with a wry smile admitted he would not be able to live with me if I did not know.

The procedure itself was *holy fucking shit* painful. It's not supposed to be that bad unless you are gripped with contractions, and I won the lottery on that one too.

I have so many conflicting emotions right now. I am uncomfortably numb. Obviously there is nothing to do but keep our fingers crossed. Much, much worse things have happened to far nicer people.

I was in half a mind whether to write this, but I will tempt fate and put it out there for the record, hoping that in 6 months time someone else will google this and will come away reassured that we were one case where everything turned out fine.

Or maybe our story will provide support for people that are faced with having to make an unthinkable decision.

I can't tell you hard this is to write when Anna is bouncing next to me explaining how we 'get our babies out by jumping super high and then pooping them out'.

Pink or Blue?

We are approaching D-Day, the big ultrasound. The one where you find out the flavour of the child-to-be. Pink or blue, hamburger or hot dog.

We didn't find out with Anna and believe it or not that was an easy decision to make and stick with. I had a few harumph moments when stocking up for the baby-to-be, but mostly because the vast majority of parents find out the sex of their child in this country, so newborn stuff comes in pink, blue or ducks. After a while I tired of ducks.

I think we may break with principle this time and find out, although in all honesty all I want to discover next week is whether the creature has an appropriate number of limbs, heart chambers etc. A skinny neck would be a plus too.

The reason we may find out is for Anna's sake. We think that it will help her warm to the idea of a new sibling if she can talk to baby Pink or Blue as a future sister or brother. Thus far she has been heart-achingly wonderful about 'Fa'an' as she has called my bump. Chattering away to my midriff about teaching 'her' to paint, to bead, to hunt for bugs. All life's critical lessons. She has decided that I am having a boy, that she is having a girl, but interestingly always refers to Fahan as a she.

On the cusp of finding this out, what do we think, and more importantly do we care if we're faced with a hamburger or a hot dog?

The obvious answer is no, other than a complete and healthy foetus we don't care in the slightest. I am surprised at the number of people who have told us their hopes that we will 'get our boy'.

I think secretly LK would prefer a boy, he is after all the last male K, and I know for certain that his Dad wants us to have a little lad.

I have enjoyed having a girl so much that I would err on the side of girl. We have the stuff, Anna would possibly bond with a female sibling more readily, and I see how close my Mum is with her sisters and her Mum and I would like that in my future. I miss my Mum. Plus ALL of our friends in town have girls. All of them. It would appear that LK's High School class is incapable of producing a solid Y chromosome between them. Oh, and I also don't want to have to make this decision.

So what do I think next week's tests will show? (Hopefully not LK's prominent Scandinavian jaw if it is a girl.....). I suppose one way to answer that, a question posed to me a lot recently, is Do I feel different?

Have I been sicker than last time? I would say yes, but I attribute that to stress and fatigue more than hormones. Have I mentioned the stress lately?! Plus I only threw up once with both pregnancies. Weird but true, so that would make it a girl.

Am I carrying lower? Yes. Which would make it a boy (allegedly), although I think only my bladder and existing scar tissue are stopping my uterus from hanging around my knees after birthing our first watermelon of a child.

Am I craving sweets or meats/cheeses? Yes. Which would make me a fat cow. I've been craving the same as last time really, yogurt. Mmm yogurt. The only difference being last time it was strawberry or cherry and now I'm favouring peach. I've also gone off meat, particularly roast chicken and red meat, same as last time. Which would make it a girl. I also had to break off from writing at this point to go and get a yogurt. Mmm.

Rapid growth of the chest? Yes, or rather HELL YES. This is apparently also an indicator of a girl.

Headaches? Definitely more than last time. Which means a boy apparently. Although it might also indicate the height of summer in Southern California and me never remembering to drink enough water.

Carrying out front or on the bum and hips? LK will confirm that I have officially 'never had an arse' so out front again. Apparently this is a girl.

Heartrate? I happen to think this could be an accurate marker of the sex (Anna's was always very high), this creature's was also high, but I only got one reading very early on so not a definitive reply I'm afraid, more of a faint girl.

Sod's Law? I have a girl's name already chosen so sod's law dictates that this must and shall be a boy.

Genes? Family history would tend to indicate a girl followed by a boy, especially on LK's side, which is after all the genetically critical side.

So in that brief and highly dodgy survey the results are:

Pink Team = 5, Blue Team = 4

What's your guess? Any gut feelings? (pardon the pun). Any old wives tales suggestions that I've missed?

16 Weeks

16 weeks pregnant with Anna














16 weeks pregnant with creature #2












Can you spot the difference? That's right - I'm considerably more tanned this time round!!

Thanks for all your comments on this post. I have decided to repeat the pregnancy photo essay with creature #2, you were right, it does seem the only fair way.

Clearly I have no shame.

Don't worry though, it is still safe to eat food while surfing the web, I will not be broadcasting my belly on a week basis.

It appears that I'm about 3-4 weeks further along in terms of showing than last time. Case in point, my 19 week photo from last time, compared to 16 weeks this time:






































Oh who am I kidding, there is clearly much more lard in photo #2, and I'm definitely 'carrying lower' (read stomach muscles not even pretending to put up a fight). But do I care? No. I am strutting this belly round like a poor man's Angelina Jolie and I don't even flinch when Anna says 'I saved a spot for you Momma, for you and your big butt'.

Nice.

Follow Through

I'm notoriously bad at this, so here's my attempt at actually following through on some things:

Fire:

Good news, it's mostly out. Despite the heatwave that seems to be raging throughout the rest of the state we have been socked in with our traditional summer fog. Never has a town been so excited to see our usual 'June Gloom'.

The coverage on the fire has been worse than useless. In the first couple of days we had one or two 'reverse 911 calls' where the authorities call your home to give you an update on evacuation orders, necessary precautions etc. That was useful, but not so much when the power is out and the phones are down. We have an old-fashioned non-electric phone somewhere but trying to find that in the dark in the attic with a candle? Not going to happen. The TV channels were regurgitating the same old information from 12+ hours ago (not very useful when it comes to something that moves like, well, wildfire....) and most of Santa Barbara went about it's business trying to ignore the giant gorilla hovering in the background.

We were never under any real threat from the fire as it happens. Despite it's apparent proximity and the 60-100ft flames making it look much closer than reality we had nothing more than some poor air quality and a flurry of ash making it look like 'Cuhmissmass' in July per Anna.

On the plus side. Firemen!! Over the weekend the town was absolutely crawling with them, you couldn't reach a coffee shop without tripping over a pack of grubby yet charming out of town firefighters. No bad thing. Hard to hide the toddler, the wedding ring and the baby bump but you know I tried....

Baby

Just when you thought it was safe to return to these waters...I'm going to start talking about the foetus again. I'm starting to show and a couple of people have done the comedy 'I know I'm going to regret asking this, but are you, possibly, I mean, you're usually on the slimmer side, so' etc etc. I like to watch them squirm. I'm generally giving it away by subconsciously caressing my stomach at every given opportunity. Mother Nature is working her wily ways and almost despite myself I'm giving creature #2 a gentle pat every, oh, 3 seconds or so. I swear I don't even realize I'm doing it. I'm not that affected honest.

I'd been feeling better until suddenly out of the blue on Tuesday I started throwing up like a cholera victim. (Do they throw up or just leak bodily fluids? If only I had the time and energy to research..). Poor old Anna got to witness the entire display with eyes like dinner plates while I gently urged her to please (urrgghh) go downstairs (urrggghhhh!) to Dada (bleurrrgghh). This is the first and only time I've thrown up this pregnancy. I only threw up once last time too so hopefully I'm done.

Anna

Currently at home from school with a nasty cold which I can feel heading my way considering how many times she's sneezed up my nose in the last 24 hours. Something about her feeling poorly makes her want to squash her little mucous-ridden face next to mine and share my breath for an entire night.

So that's all folks. No flambe'd K household. Baby still plumping and growing. Toddler sneezing and watching Go Diego Go.

Why don't more people read this blog?!

Belly Shots

Those days when a belly shot involved my navel and alcohol are sadly long gone (oh who am I kidding, we never did that in the College library...).

When I was pregnant with Anna I took a photo of my ever-growing belly every Saturday morning. Or rather LK did, with varying degrees of reluctance.

I started at 4 months because there were no real changes before then. Here's the final progression with the last shot at 40 weeks. Despite the gargantuan size of the final belly I think I'm honestly more terrified at the array of casual clothing detailed in the shots. Must strive for more tasteful apparel this pregnancy. In my defence the heinous red pyjama bottoms in photo #2 were my attempt to celebrate Christmas. I will burn them I promise.....

I'm in two minds about whether to do it again this time (the photos, not the pregnancy). At 12 weeks plus I'm already approaching the 17 week mark from last time. One month ahead of the game - clearly my stomach muscles are not as excited about this pregnancy as I am. On the other hand, I don't want to deprive creature #2 of it's own moment in the sun (literally in the sun as the florid sunburn in the second to last photo shows).

What do you think? Should I restart at week 16 for continuity's sake? Should I, for the love of God cover the damn thing up as you're trying to start the day and are now feeling nauseous?

Hello Sailor!!

Continuing the theme of the joys of early pregnancy, this one is less tiresome, particularly for LK.

Massive boobs!

























Mirroring my last pregnancy, it's the first 'symptom' I developed within days of that positive pregnancy test. I went from a bashful 34 B to a hello boys C+ cup practically overnight. Slow down girls! A few days before I found out I was pregnant I was trying to squash myself into my normal sports bra whilst getting ready for the gym and thought 'hmm, that's a bit odd then'. Genius alert!

LK has let it be known that if I were to consider getting a restorative boob job post kids (and in his defence he has only brought it up after I did first), that my present state would be a more than appropriate permanent size. Of course he's probably only saying this because I have a strict 'look but don't touch policy' going because Lord Almighty they are sensitive enough to detect a gnat fart. I have to brace for impact if I run to catch the phone and I've thrown pride aside and just held them for dear life while jogging recently (yes I'm feeling so much better these days, exercise isn't just a pipe dream).

Apparently my new physique has been noticed by more than LK, well that's a redundant statement actually, because *damn* all men notice boobs - I swear I got a half price honey-baked ham last week on boob-discount. Anna is aware that she's going to get a sibling in January. In fact, she thinks she's pregnant with a teeny-tiny baby she's named Farrar. I'm not going to go into the psychological ramifications of a three year old experiencing a phantom pregnancy.........she thinks she's pregnant because I am, and we're both girls, ergo she must be having a baby too. Now, I don't have much of a pregnancy bump yet, although I am measuring about a month ahead of the game compared to last time. My stomach muscles have clearly given up on the fight. I merely look 'thicker' than usual, as if I've just had a large curry and gone 'sod it, I'm not holding this in'. Attractive. So when Anna and I were talking about our babies, she said 'Farrar is in my tummy eating my food, I fink your baby is living in your boobies they are BIG boobies'.

Nice.

Je Suis Fatigue

Of the myriad early pregnancy symptoms (which I intend to detail over the coming weeks, you lucky, lucky readers...) fatigue is the one that's kicking my arse.

Fatigue isn't really the right word though, it's too fluffy, too insubstantial for the stopping me dead in my tracks tiredness I'm experiencing. Exhaustion is probably more accurate, although that implies tiredness after an activity, and sometimes, just the act of getting up and dressing myself has me done for the day.

I'm not making this sound pretty am I? Let me just say for the record that I am over the moon excited about this new little critter I'm a-cooking. Positively giddy with the thought of getting to meet him or her early next year and giving their fleshy babyness a good squeeze. See, the hyperbole runneth over. Detailing the misery is much more entertaining.

I've already mentioned how I can, and do, fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Thankyou Noggin Channel for entertaining my child while I slip in and out of consciousness. I am very ready for phase 2, the second trimester, to get properly underway, where I become a whirling dervish of getting-stuff-done. Or maybe I'm misremembering. I am getting better, and feel like issuing an email to all my close friends apologising for my flakiness over the last couple of months. I make plans that sound wonderful at 9am when I am incongruously feeling human, then issue phonecalls about 3pm when drained of all but the ability to breathe I cancel all my plans and lie on the couch like a Victorian woman with an attack of the vapours.

I have a great deal of respect for the human body, and not just because while typing this I'm also creating a spleen, a couple of ears and an endocrine system. No, it's a sly cookie because if you're doing too much (and that would appear to include working full time, mothering a 3 year old, being a landlord to the unwashed masses, and trying to refinance....) it makes you stop. Dead. These days my body shuts down when I'm pushing myself too hard. After a long stressful day I practically crawl to the couch, literally unable to do another thing. It sounds overly dramatic, but it's the kind of tiredness that would make you able to sleep on the top of a pile of hedgehogs, or on a long haul flight even. That tired. 

LK has been the biggest victim of all these shenanigans. We'll be out somewhere and I'll start to feel a little sick and a little tired. No big deal, but I'll mention the need to go home, soon. Then five minutes later I'm screaming 'Jesus Christ man, we need to GO HOME NOW, what's your problem, why don't you ever listen, WE NEED TO GO HOME NOW. OH GOD IT'S TOO LATE I'M BEYONE EXHAUSTED AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT. YOU MAN YOU.' It really happens that fast, and the poor boy looks at me with barely concealed terror and flees. Because that's what it feels like. One second you're a little tired and ready for a sit down, two minutes later you feel like you've been up til 3am at some college party across town with a mate who was supposed to be walking home with you but is instead pursuing the man of her dreams upstairs, and your hangover's starting to hit and you're so tired you could curl up in to a ball and sleep under the kitchen sink, except you don't know any of these people, and God you just need to teleport into your own bed right now or you're going to die.

A couple of days of this has LK so fine-tuned to my 'moods' that if I say I'm feeling a little tired he'll have downed his beer, have Anna packed and ready in her car seat, car keys in hand before I even have chance to utter another word.

I am clearly not the only one eager to get these first few weeks done with. 

Am I the only one? I will occasionally look through the 'newly expecting' message boards online and find everything from 'help, is my toenail polish going to poison my baby' to 'are plastic bottles going to kill my baby', but no-one is mentioning this sleeping 16 hours a day thing. Is it psychosomatic? Am I just checking out from my crazy life?

Morning Sickness

When the heroine of a novel finds out she's pregnant, it's always by throwing up first thing in the morning, followed by a joyful *gasp* best get that crib down from the loft again Cyril.

I'm lucky, I've never really had morning sickness. I appear to favour the low-grade all day nausea reminiscent of recovering from a nasty bout of stomach flu. It has been particularly bad with this pregnancy - and I'm not jumping to any conclusions here about different symptoms meaning different foetal sex - although crikey moses you should hear my father-in-law with his questions about whether I 'feel any different this time round'. I'm so glad producing a son and heir is the genetic responsibility of the father. I'm just the vessel. Don't shoot the vessel if your son is the last remaining male K in the family (LK is fresh out of male relatives of breeding age. No pressure).

Maybe it feels more like motion sickness, it's hard to say. It certainly gets worse with stress or fatigue, which would more than explain why I've been having such a rough time these last 6 weeks or so. The only things that make it go away are rest (ha!) and simple carbohydrates. I've been munching my way through an entire Italian province-worth of pasta with cheese. No wonder my belly is already beginning to 'pop' a fact not entirely explained by the baby being the size of a small kiwi fruit at present.

Some women have an absolutely dreadful time with 'morning' sickness, mine is just a constant low-grade irritant. I do struggle a bit in certain situations, such as, hmm, when I was 7 weeks pregnant and LK took Anna and I to the 'marine mammal rescue center' bizarrely located in a sleepy residential area in Santa Barbara. We struggled for years to get building permits to update an already existing building. This outfit managed to get planning permission for an entire seal sanctuary in their back garden?!

Anna was in hog heaven. She is obsessed with animals at present (pronounced animaux), and 'sea creatures' are at the top of the pile. To have the opportunity to show her round the seal sanctuary, where they were nursing baby seals and sea-lions back to health was all she could have wished for. Except, have you ever caught a whiff of a seal? They chuffing reek! And sick seals? If anything was to confirm or deny the start of early pregnancy nausea, it was a visit to this place:

















I realise this photo makes it look like sea-lion Auschwitz, but the pups were in very good hands and were merely baying because they were hungry.

Hungry for this:























I was just barely keeping a lid on the bile, when they showed us what they fed the seals that were too weak to digest a whole mackerel. A mackerel smoothie!! Fish mashed together in a food processor to form a vile reddish-brown liquid. I didn't even have time to take a photo I'm afraid - I bolted.

Of course, at 6 weeks pregnant we weren't really announcing our good news to all and sundry so my mad dash made me look like a delicate Daphne when in actual fact just writing the above has me eying the toilet. Bleurgh.

Still, all this good stuff will pass, and I'm teetering on the brink of my second trimester so I'm hopeful that it's some point bloody soon. Because sheesh, it seems only with pregnancy are people so cavalier about you feeling awful. Nonstop nausea? *Chuckle* Don't worry love, it'll pass in a month or so, not long!!

Six weeks and counting....