I wonder who he takes after

23 weeks

I can tell my baby's personality and he's is not even out of the womb.
Let me explain.
BabyG is mischevious. I can feel him kicking, and so I hurriedly haul my husband's (or mother's/sister's/friend's) arm across, place their hand firmly on the site of the kicking and excitedly tell them that they are about to feel a kick.
So they wait, expectantly.
And I wait, expectantly.
And the clock ticks.
And we wait.
And as the seconds tick by I realise that I've made all this fuss, and precisely nothing is happening.
I shift slightly awkwardly in my seat. I am beginning to feel embarrassed.
BabyG meanwhile, can tell everything that is going on. After attracting attention through kicking in the first place, he leans back, places his arms behind his head and, with a wry smile, has absolutely no intention of kicking.
So I and husband/mother/sister/friend give up. I apologise and gabble: "he'll do it again soon, I'm sure!"
Then, as everyone gets back to what they were doing, BabyG languorously reaches his leg out and places a deft, carefully positioned foot and gives a good, firm kick.

Diet is "die" with a T

22 weeks

BabyG hasn't been so active these last few days.
Which of course has thrown me into a panic.
Have I been eating the wrong things? Have I been drinking enough water? Has that half glass of wine I had the other day had an adverse affect?
(The one thing I have learned quite early on in this pregnancy is that Motherhood = Permanent Guilt Trip.)
And, oh god, I read a story the other day about a woman who gave birth to a 15 pound baby (can you imagine), and apparently the baby was so big because the mother ate a high-sugar diet. And I've just realised that I've been eating a lot of biscuits recently. And the odd...er...chocolate bar. And yesterday I had a sticky toffee pudding.
Gulp.
Maybe BabyG isn't moving because HE IS TOO FAT

Blooming? Pah!

22 weeks

Thus far I have seriously doubted the 'blooming' phenomena that is supposed to accompany pregnancy. And here's why.
In the first three months, despite having escaped morning sickness, I still felt rough, and looked it too. Dark circles under the eyes, pale grey skin, the most awful wind and.. well, some things are best not sharing.
Now it's nearly three months on and I'm slightly less pale, but possibly only because I am now incredibly spotty. And I still have dark circles under the eyes. I keep reading about how I'm supposed to have glowing skin, luscious shiny hair, and be positively radiant. Er...

However, all is not lost! All my life I've had weak, brittle nails that split, bend and disappear at the mere whiff of nail varnish. All of a sudden I am blessed with the strongest, most gorgeous set of talons I've ever had! They're gorgeous, they're long, I can file them, buff them, gaze at them lovingly. And oh! The excitement of being able to wear nail varnish! I'll be able to show them off in Frosted Pink, Mailbox Red, Vintage Vamp Purple! Hurrah!

Oh. Hang on a minute. Still can't use the nail polish. Fumes not good for the baby.
Arse.

There's nothing quite like it

22 weeks

It's somewhere between the hours of 2 and 3am. It's deathly quiet. I am awake.
Why? Because for the last 10 minutes BabyG has been performing what I can only describe as acrobatic maneuvers. Apparently, given what size, shape and stage of development BabyG is at, there is still plenty of room in there.
Enough room for him to swing gaily from the umbilical cord from one side of my womb to the other going yee-ha!
When bored of this, I think he's doing handstands, perhaps alternating with the odd cartwheel.
And, darn it, he always knows when I'm talking about him because he will start making his presence felt, like he is right at this minute. Or maybe he's just going "hey, where's my breakfast?"
I'm loving it, because there's really nothing quite like it. It's really quite splendid to share the pre-dawn hours with someone, we're bonding, BabyG and me.
Though I have to admit, it does have a teeny weeny bit of an Alien feel to it....

I spoke too soon

21 weeks

Having recently rejoiced the end of the spotty teenager phase of my pregnancy, I awoke this morning to see my fifteen-year-old self staring back at me in the mirror.
Or should I say, my fifteen-year-old chin.
It's a good job that concealers have come such a long way since nineteen eighty-ahem.
However, no concealer works miracles, so I still feel acutely embarrassed because as a grown woman it looks like I just haven't bothered washing my face. This is made all the worse by the fact that I'm still in that "Is she pregnant or is she fat?" stage, so it's not immediately obvious that it's just my hormones in overdrive.
Oh well, it beats morning sickness.

We're halfway there

21 weeks.

Bloody hell, we're already past the half-way stage, how did that happen so quickly?

BabyG is increasingly active. His 5am aerobic sessions are commonplace, and interestingly, he perks up after I eat. I wonder if he will have a healthy appetite? I can keep myself amused for hours by watching the little pokes and bumps coming out of my tummy. I poke back now again to see if I can establish communication. In fact, I think BabyG knows I'm talking about him right now because he's just given me a bit of a kicking.

I've discovered another bright side to the hormone situation (see earlier post) my skin has improved no end: no more teenage spots. Hurrah!

Update

20 weeks

All is going well with pregnancy. Well, mostly. Hormones have suddenly kicked into action and I find myself in tears more often than not. Husband is slowly learning to think before speaking rather than risking another screeching, slamming door and wailing episode. And they say it's when the baby arrives that the marriage is tested. Pah! At this rate we'll hit the divorce courts before the birth. On the bright side, I'm assuming that it's all tied in with the recent, rather alarming, growth spurt of my bump, meaning that the little nipper is getting bigger and stronger. Go BabyG, Go.