Bear Hamilton Pullen

Our darling sleeping son, always in our hearts.
29.11.10

The profile diaries - maybe the last entry?!

This is me yesterday. As you can see, the bump is taking over my entire being, but at least it's mostly fluid, or that's what the midwife said! I'm hoping the baby won't be too big, as I still want a natural water birth and clearly this isn't going to happen with a giant bubba!!! Anyway, in my mind natural sounds good, but who knows what will happen on the big day?!
Lots of 'psychic' friends, think it's going to be this week, but we fast running out of time, so I'm not sure if baby Pullen is in on the clairvoyant vibes. Maybe it's heard about the snow and doesn't want to get cold? And who can blame it. As long as I can still get to the hospital should it decide that snowy Saturday will be its day, then I'm happy.
This limbo time can be frustrating, but everyone is being so lovely that it's hard to get too annoyed. Friends have been calling from all over the world, and I feel very cared for and loved. I know this baby is going to be born into a big loving family that include parents (that's us, eek), grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and lots of adopted family in the shape of our gorgeous friends. Thank you everyone for taking the time to check in and make us feel so special. Let's hope this is an appreciative baby Bear.

Impatience is a dish served with rice

Ok, so I haven't even reached my due date and I'm starting to get very itchy feet. I'm impatient by nature anyway, so this was always going to happen.
Generally, I'm fine, but there are moments when I feel like this baby won't ever come and that I'll be pregnant forever. Imagine that, actually, I'd rather not. I'm done with the big bump and the no sashimi - I want to meet this little Bear now and get our new look Pullen family ready for some fun!
We went for a curry last night, which is a total cliche and was a risk, because I didn't want to get any indigestion. Anyway, we walked there and ate like kings. It was delicious and lovely to be out just the two of us. I went all out and even had a beer. But nothing seemed to impress the Bear. I knew it wouldn't. Curries don't give me an upset tummy (the theory behind this old wives tale) but I enjoyed pigging out nonetheless.
I think part of the impatience is that one of my lovely NCT friends has already popped, even though she was due two days after me, and another friend, due two weeks after the Bear, is also already a Mummy, so things are moving, just not in my direction. It's a strange feeling. You urge the birth to hurry up, but then, that means pain, fear, the Big Unknown. And then after that, PARENTHOOD. It's impossible to imagine how any of this new events will feel, so although you're happy to move things along there are some other crazy emotions to get your head around too. DH is being great though. He understands how I feel and I know he'll drop everything the minute he gets my call, so I feel totally supported on that front.
Aside from impatience things are all good. The sun is shining and I'm loving getting out for my daily walks. I've done a big Ocado shop so that the house will be fully stocked, and all the washing is done. That means all I need to do now is enjoy myself and savour these last days of independence and peace and quiet!

Wow, I really have been blog-shy

I didn't realise that I hadn't blogged since last Tuesday. Me bad. The only thing I can blame is my doughy, stupid pregnancy brain - oh and laziness. Except, in many ways, I don't actually feel lazy at all. I've been going for some mammoth walks. Every day I'm out there with my big bottle of Evian pounding the parks of London. This is, of course, meant to bring on labour. And that's what I had in mind when I resolved to walk walk walk. But actually, seeing as the baby's head is already fully engaged, I don't really think it's doing much, except freeing my mind and giving me a beautiful, autumnal daily boost. It's lovely out there. Really, for a heavily pregnant woman, even when the weather looks decidedly average, walking, stretching and getting two lungs full of fresh air is actually a hell of a lot nicer than sitting on the couch - or traipsing around a shopping centre.
Today, I'm going to use my new walking enjoyment and replace an actual car journey with leg power. I'll report back on if I make it or not. I figure that once the baby arrives, I'll be walking heaps anyway, so I might as well start the training now.
So last night was a full moon. Back when I was young, impressionable and probably a tad on the emotional side, I used to find - or rather, my friends would inform me - that a full moon made me go a bit, well, gaga. Not in the avant-garde singer sense of the word, but in the moody, hysterical, hyperactive interpretation. Granted, the moon hasn't really had much of an impression on me since I've settled into work (seven years ago), a stable relationship and a loving little home. But that wasn't going to stop me hoping, on some very pie in the sky, kind of way, that it might, just this one time again, do something to my body. We are, after all, made up for something like 80 per cent water, and what with all the amniotic fluid too (of which, my midwife tells me, I have plenty) pregnant women are kind of like the sea - ready to be controlled by lunar phases and the like. So I waited, I looked hopefully up to the sky, and enjoyed the clear, bright night. But nothing. Not even a tinge.
That darn moon. You can rely on it to circle the earth in a perfect rhythm. But it won't get this little baby to budge.

The Nursery - before and after

Ok, so I've taken my 'before' and 'after' shots from different angles, but you get the idea. Previously, this room was rather bland and white. Now, after some painting fun, a long chair dilemma and several (hundred) trips to John Lewis, we are nearly there. I think the room looks cosy and warm, as well as being unisex and colourful. But then I would say that, I'm kind of biased. It's been great fun putting all the bits together, and obviously, I'm not done yet. I still have a big, modern photo-family tree to organise (it will hang above the chest of drawers), plus I need to buy some toys and do that kind of stuff, but for the moment, I think we're nearly there.
Oh, actually, we have a brilliant orange pigeon night-light that needs putting up (hint hint DH). You can just see my handyman on the floor getting busy in the first photo. He doesn't want his face on the blog until the Bear arrives. He's a mysterious fella, but I love him so much and can't wait to meet the baby that we've made together. Come on Bear, your room is ready....

I know, I'm a slacker

An amusing picture to show how the bump has now completely engulfed my body - although contrary to first impressions it hasn't actually turned my bust neon pink. That was a game, at my baby shower. Aren't my girls hilarious (!).
So here I am - showered, in both senses of the word - and ready to rumble. Mentally, I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be and baby has it's head right down and fully engaged. This sounds extremely promising (the midwife couldn't actually find the head - that wasn't promising - but her senior came and felt it down in my pelvis, phew, the baby has a head), but you can actually be fully engaged for several weeks, so don't pop the champagne just yet.
Anyway, I'm walking as much as my heavy pelvis allows and I'm having a lovely time meeting friends and family and generally being a lady of leisure. Stupidly, I've just upgraded my phone, so am now totally un-contactable for 24 hours while things transfer over. This probably wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had. I mean what happens if I need to get DH tomorrow and he isn't on email.... mmm, didn't actually think about that when I saw my lovely new iPhone 4. Ooops.
Actually, I had my appointment today at the birth centre and a woman was labouring as I was being examined. I couldn't hear her or anything, but the midwife told me, and it made everything rather, er, REAL. Then I saw a woman who had given birth yesterday. She looked pretty good actually, that gave me a bit of confidence. Eeek, you can be ready but you can never be ready, hmm, I suppose that's what adrenaline is for!

Thinking about my hospital 'look' (well, seriously, what else do I have to occupy my mind?)

I wouldn't actually be wasting my time thinking about what I'm going to wear post-birth, if it hadn't been for that lovely PR at Blossom Mother and Child. She somehow found that I'm on maternity leave and emailed to invite me to come in and see the store. I thought why not, again, it's not like my days are jammed packed at the moment. Anyway, it turns out that it was well worth my while as she piled me up with garb for those post-baby days when I'll constantly need to whip my boob out, will be hot and sweaty, probably feeling like total rubbish, but at least wanting to put on a calm, attractive front.
So now I have this nightie, which seems a bit crazy (I mean, to me, tracksuit pants are always the best option when you're not feeling your best), but she assured me that I'll be far too hot in the hospital and this one clips down to make breastfeeding easy. She also gave me some matching, ribboned knickers which I thought was pretty hilarious, as I'm clearly going to Primark to buy their cheapest, plainest 5-pack, but she was insistent. Added to that I got, a strange vest top contraption that sucks in your tummy but has the breastfeeding clips, plus a really nice knitted tracksuit. All in all, I'm a very spoilt Mummy-to-be.
It's such a funny time this pre-baby, off work month. I don't feel like I'm in the fed up get this baby out frame of mind (yet), actually, I still, in many ways, don't believe that a baby will ever come out. It's hard to get your head around, even this late in the game. But everyone else who is pregnant now has a baby, so I know, if I think rationally, there'll be a baby here very soon.
It's nursery is looking good. I just need to hang a few pictures and then I'll post a picture. It is all cosy and soft, and will be perfect for a boy or a girl, which is quite a feat, let me tell you.
Anyway, despite saying I have nothing much on in the day, I do actually have a lunch date with another preggo and her pip, so I must sign off. A big Gail's sandwich is calling and who am I to ignore such an attractive offer?!

Cooked

So here I am, or rather we are, full term, fully cooked, ready to rumble... and obviously nothing is going on. It's a bit of an annoyance that you are done and dusted three weeks before you're due date. It isn't good for impatient types like me - and hopefully Bear. I'm convinced that this little wriggler has some of my twitchy, angsty, impetuous characteristics, so I'm hoping it'll think, 'hey, it's boring in here in all this warm fluid, I want to see what's going on out there, where all the noises come from.' Anyway, we'll see, if it wants to stay put, then that's fine.
When it does make its Big Appearance, we'll be heading to the Birth Centre at St Mary's, where we had our introduction on Saturday. Wow, what an amazing setup. We were really impressed. The ethos is that it's a home from home. At the hospital, so that you have all the medical backup that you need if things become complicated, but totally cut off from the big, noisy, bustling maternity ward. The place has calm written all over it. There are only ten midwives and you meet them all before you give birth. The rooms are seriously amazing (I'd say 4* hotel vibe) and the birthing pools are huge and indulgent. It'll be a struggle going drug-free, but I'm hopeful that I can manage it, and if not, I'll at least start there in peaceful tranquility and then transfer myself up for some epidural time. Either way, it's an amazing option and we felt very warm and calm while we were there.
It's been a very busy few days - hence my rather less than impressive bloggingness. On Saturday, after the birth centre, we had a wedding and then Aunty-to-be's 40th birthday. I wore heels for more than 12 hours. I just wanted to point that out.
On Sunday we spent a lot of time on the sofa recuperating. And then last night it was our final NCT class. It was all about the baby this time. How to hold the little tyke. how to feed it (again), burp it, you name it, we did it to a bean-bagged little dolly. Even the boys looked quite comfortable with the fake babies. Life is funny; I'm sure none of these men have even spent more than a couple of seconds holding a doll, and yet last night, they were cuddling and cooing at them until they were blue in the face (the men, not the babies). I suppose that's proof about how life changes - and for the better.

Feeding time at the dolls house

This is how you learn how to breast feed. Knitted boobs, they're all the rage at NCT classes, apparently. Actually, our 'girls only' class today was really fun, well as much fun as you can have with fake colostrum. It was nice not having the boys there for once, I think we all bonded a bit more, and Ruth, our teacher is amazing. She is so down to Earth and honest. I really enjoy listening to her. Not just about nipples, but other stuff, relationships, how lucky we are in the West, how other cultures care for their young, it's kind of like being back at university, just with less tequila.
After the breast-feeding crash course, I went to spend the day with some of the girls. We used to be know as the Four Bumps. We are now the Two Bumps, and Two Babies brigade. It's amazing how bumps do actually become babies and life carries on. We talked a lot about feeding, pooing and all the other stuff that new Mums, and Mums-to-be like to converse over. It was lovely seeing the babies: a little boy and a little girl. They already seem to have personalities and their own tiny expressions. Soon, hopefully, there will be two more little bubbas in the gang, which sex, is anyone's guess.
So I'm still a washing machine. Not literally, of course. I don't hand-wash, it always seems like a pointless waste of time. But I have developed a deep love for shoving things in that big circular drum, and making the house smell lovely and fresh. Is it nesting? I'm not sure. I certainly haven't had an urge to scrub the floor (especially as we just paid the cleaner to do it for us).

It smells like heaven at home

Wow, washing never smelt this good. Seriously, I think it's the fabric softener, but I've just done our towels (I know, thrilling information), after doing a whole white baby load, because I need this smell upstairs too. Mmm, so clean and baby-ish. So yes, the highlight of my day has been washing. Actually, to be more specific, it's been hanging out the washing, because then I got to handle all those tiny little vests and socks and line them up perfectly on the drying rack. Obviously, once the baby arrives, everything will be tumbled dried and probably still stained, but now, while I have time, I'm taking pride in these cute little clothes.
I've finished my 'circle art' - 7 individual circles of fun fabrics and embellishments. They are all waiting to be put up and should make the room look cheerier and more homely. Then I need to hang some other nursery-style pictures that I've been accumulating along the way, and then Bear's room will be almost ready.
I feel tired today. Even just doing stuff around the house is knackering when you haven't slept very well and your stomach is housing basically a fully grown newborn. But hey, that's what maternity leave is for I guess. So before I put on the bolognese sauce and then drag my tired butt to yoga, I'll have a nice little rest on the couch and probably watch a re-run of Friends, because that's what you do, at home, at 5pm, right?

Sleeeeep

Wow, something amazing happened today: I slept in. Like a proper, at university, keep dozing back off, kind of morning and then suddenly after being 9am, it was 10 O'clock, and I feel like a different woman. Pregnant types are notoriously bad sleepers. If it isn't the constant peeing (I now get up three times, not once, as before), the uncomfortable bump, the acid, the 3am insomnia, or the racing mind, it's 6.30am on a Sunday morning (seriously, this was my Sunday last weekend). I'm not sure if it's the anticipation of the changes, my body relaxing and doing 'getting ready for birth' stuff, or just the those pesky hormones but something always seems to stand in the way of a long, luxurious lie in. Even yesterday, my first day off, I was up with DH at the crack of dawn pottering around the house, listening to Radio 4.
Actually, yesterday I think it was a bit of a guilt thing, as much as anything else. I feel bad on DH. I want him to be on maternity leave too, it isn't fair. This guilt meant I had a very productive Day One of Maternity Leave. No slumping in front of the television for me, no Sir. I was busy tidying the flat, putting on washes (unpacking washes), going to the optician (long, boring, painful story), at the post office depot (nice baby blanket reward) and then in town with Darling Mother (Grandmother-in-waiting), to buy some more baby bits. After that I was back home for my last GP appointment before the Birth Centre induction, and finally, off to NCT where we learnt about pain relief and no one laughed as much as last week. It was still enjoyable, but in a slightly more black comedy kind of way. The next class is a woman's only affair where we learn about breast-feeding. I think the boys are a bit jealous; not about the breasts, but about us having another session without them. I can't wait for everyone to start having their babies, it'll be so exciting to know what they have, the names and all of that stuff.
Whilst pottering around doing my chores yesterday, I did accidentally buy some baby clothes. Actually, no clothes, just accessories. A few pairs of socks here, a hat there. DH was laughing at me when he got home and I talked him through all the new additions to Bear's wardrobe. He knows this is going to be an ongoing shopping opportunity and I think he was chuckling through fear.

Mummy practise

Excuse me looking rough, this shot is all about the buggy. Not it's beauty - for once - but it's darn impossible construction. DH is pretty nifty with his DIY mind, and I'm really very proficient at sitting in a chair and directing, but even that solid team was defeated by PROJECT BUGABOO. Man, those buggy people really need to learn how to write some instructions. It's all very well having a snazzy DVD (totally pointless), and two manuals, but when none of the above actually include any useful information things start getting a bit t-e-d-i-o-u-s. We actually accidentally smashed a big picture frame in the making of this buggy and it's surprising we didn't smash each other too, because what looks like a simple case of click, click, Velcro and go, is actually long, laborious and completely counter-intuitive. Anyway, we someone got there, and this is the a face of relief - not one of beauty, but hey, you can't have everything in life.
We keep going into the Bear's room and having a bit of a push about. Buggies are fun, especially when there is no baby inside and you can do wheelies and stuff.
As you can just about see, the nursery is coming together. The rug really made a difference, as did the removal of several tools and a handful of large cardboard boxes. Now I'm deep into decoration time. I've already made, with my own fair hands, three pictures to hang on the wall and just need to find some more cute fabrics and the other six will be done. I'm doing a 'circular' theme behind the nursing chair: lots of circular frames containing different prints and stuff, to brighten things up. I figure circles look softer than rectangles. So it's all about the decoration now - and the washing.
Fairy Non-Bio, I need you in my life. It's amazing how on day one of maternity leave, my brain has already completely emptied itself of anything remotely fashion related (I sit here in the same clothes that you see above. What? They're comfy), and is now completely focused on washing and drying very small items of clothing.

MY LAST DAY

Ok, it isn't my last day forever, and I will be back, but for the foreseeable future, I won't be coming to work at The Times anymore, and that is a surreal feeling! I am excited to have a bit of a life-breather. I know, all you mothers out there are laughing into your sicky muslins, in the knowledge that having a baby isn't a breather in the slightest. But a change is as good as a rest, as they say, so it'll be nice to have a new pace to my life.
To not have to sit on the Bakerloo Line (and then the District and Circle) for close to two hours everyday is going to be an amazing relief. And then, there is the whole desk thing, that's been getting progressively more uncomfortable. From now on, I'm going to keep my legs stretched, my back extended, and generally be a lot more pleasant to be around.
It is sad leaving the job though. I love all my colleagues and the work is fun and stimulating. Ho hum, but I'll be back, under my new 'working mother' guise.

And the celebrations begin

Look at these cute biscuits that were sent as a gift from the very lovely RobinaPRextraordinaire today. There are 4 more layers underneath, so we're all on a sugar high and loving it. So many work colleagues have been emailing and calling to wish me well, that it makes me feel a bit sad. Anyway, I'm sure once I'm lounging about next week, not a care in the world (in theory, at least), it will put pay to that work nostalgia. And my work friends will still be here when I return.
Last night we had another NCT class. This one was more relaxed and everyone seemed chattier and laughed more. We did some good Dad-on-Mum massage action, lots of swaying, which the boys all found hilarious, and contraction practise with a soundtrack that had a sharp noise that got progressively louder and then tailed off. The teacher, Ruth, gave the boys some useful encouragment phrases; the one I liked the best was 'Well, you'll never see that contraction again, it's gone. Well done.' She said to take each contraction separately and I'm going to try and follow her advice. Let's see how long I last before I crumple into a heap of panic and call in the anaesthetist. Anyway, there was lots of useful information, as before, and she always takes time to talk about the baby too, which I think is important.
With just over 4 weeks until Due Date (mine, not the release of the film, which actually looks very amusing), I'm starting to really believe that this baby is coming. I just need to put some art up on the walls of the nursery, roll out the rug and basically act on all these nesting instincts. DH won't recognise the flat after I've been home alone with a hammer and some picture hooks.

The Profile Diaries: entry number 5

Well here I am, with a big, stripy nearly-9-month bump. You will be sad to know that this will be the last toilet photography on the blog, because from next week, I'll be all warm and snuggly - and not restricted to a office bathroom mirror - at home. Oh yes, it feels great. Actually, it feels kind of normal. Despite me only having 2 days left at Times Towers, it's kind of like every other week. It's hard to imagine not doing the daily commute, or chatting to my work colleagues or writing news stories, such as the one I've just compiled on men's grooming. Did you know that one in seven men wears eye liner?! Me neither.
Last night, as I was falling asleep it suddenly struck me that this baby inside, this little person, is, well, it's own little being. I had this pointed out to me because after a long soak in the bath, a lovely massage (thanks DH) and some restful chat time, my body was feeling as close to a temple of relaxation as I've known for some months. When we turned off the lights every muscle felt warm, and soft. Then the Bear started kicking. I think it was saying, 'Oi, you might want to relax and chill but I'm my own person, you know, and actually, if you're asking, 11pm is playtime, so stuff your heavy muscles, I'm going to have a p-a-r-t-y.' I think it had a good time, because it was dancing for ages. It's fair enough, I suppose. The bear isn't me, and I'm not the bear. At the moment, my body is its home, but that doesn't mean we need to do the same thing at the same time. Clearly, this little bubba has a strong will (mmm, wonder where it gets that from?!) and it won't stop having a bit of a kick for anyone. In a way, it was kind of sweet. After a while, the bear calmed down, and wait for it, I slept. So actually, everyone ended up happy.
Although the bear has it's own routine and likes to do its own thing sometimes, it does at least sleep through the night. Really, it never wakes me up and only re-activates when I start talking in the morning - then, kicking resumes as normal. The bear is kicking now, in fact. It probably knows I'm typing about it and wants it's own say. Well, sorry bear, but you're going to have to make an appearance if you want to actually get in on the action.

Something else to clutter up the house - I mean, welcome the baby with...

This seems like a very nifty product to make life easier with a newborn. It's by Stokke and it's an attachment to thier already hugely successful toddler seat. I know it's hugely successful because two of our little friends (ages: 3 1/2 and 4 1/4) have them, and even us adults have been known to perch happily on their comfortable seat bottoms for long dinners and general down time. This, above, is to stop the baby-screaming-on-the-floor-while-you-eat situation. Apparently, little ones don't like being ignored. Big ones don't like being ignored either; I should know, I'm the Queen of give-me-attention. So I'm thinking the Pullen Bear will be too, and probably won't enjoy being in a bouncer on the floor while we all eat roast chicken. Maybe this is the answer? I won't be buying it now, I need to have this little bubba first, but it's on the metaphorical back-burner.
I am fully aware that I haven't uploaded my Profile Diaries yet this week. I would have done it today, but I'm wearing a denim dress and it doesn't really mould around the bump, so you'll get no sense of any shape changes. I'll wear something tighter and more bump-friendly tomorrow and will upload immediately. As an aside, I feel like my old self today. This dress has been around for donkey's years, and I'm wearing it with my Gap black/white stripy long sleeve (bought circa 2005) and a red Kookai cardigan (bought circa 1998 - I'm not kidding). This is a classic Alice combo and amazingly, the bump fits in treat. This outfit sure as hells beat the floral dress I wore yesterday. I mean, unbelievably, I actually received some positive feedback from people in the office, but pale pink (even over black tights) does nothing for one's bump proportions. I looked like a hippo, in a not very cute way.
I know that once Saturday rolls around and I no longer need to look 'smart' for the forseeable future, it'll be all Ugg boots and leggings - and I can't wait. Working out what to wear in the morning is an unfair obstacle to an already tiring day. And frankly, I'm over it.

While I struggle with my wardrobe..

French Connection decides now is the time to launch a maternity line. First thought (after, wow, that girl looks hot), is, er, 'couldn't you have thought about this maybe, I don't know, six months ago?'
The clothes are fabulous and for all my newly pregnant readers, they'll be on asos.com this week, so don't decline those festive party invites just yet. Seriously, there are some great dresses in the collection. They're as nice as I am bitter... just saying.
Anyway, moving swiftly on. Today is my last Monday in the office. Hoorah. I might be commiserating myself on missing the French Connection boat, but I'm jolly in the knowledge that as I write this, I have just 4.5 days left in the office. That includes one day that I may work from home, so it could mean just over 3 days left commuting, stretching in the toilet, getting 'haven't you popped yet' glances from people I don't know at The Times, and a general rush every morning as my body takes its own, slow, pace, and I invariably turn up late. I can't really imagine what it's going to be like not working for quite some time. I mean, my gmail account gets about three messages a day (if it's lucky), whereas my one at The Times, well put it this way, it isn't even 3pm yet, and I'm already on 200 odd. It'll be hard relinquishing my brain from all that internet chitter chatter. But I'm determind to hand my Blackberry back at the end of the week (RIP BBM), and I will try not to miss it a jot. I'm thinking that shopping will have to replace emailing for the first few weeks. What? At least I'm not going to start smoking!

After all that chat....

...the buggy arrived. It doens't actually look like this yet, it's more of a flat-packed box at the moment, but it's at home, ready to put together, and it makes me feel calmer and more prepared. The car seat has also arrived, so now we can legally take our baby home from the hospital. It is also currently in a cardboard box, but hey, hopefully the Bear will arrive after we've done the recycling!
We also have a poo bin. Thrilling.
I had a good midwife appointment yesterday. I hadn't seen Claire before, but she was attentive, gave me lots of time, and we chatted through everything that I've been experiencing over the past week or so. She has referred me to the birth centre at St Mary's, so I'll be continuing my ante-natal care there from now on. I'm intrigued to see this marvellous birth centre. It's meant to be fab and hotel-like, so I'll report back once I've done the tour (but presumably, before I get the t-shirt).
While the midwife was measuring me, the Bear decided to do a little dance. It was pretty amusing for all involved (I'm almost positive the little one was having a laugh at us from the inside too). So now, in my notes, it says something like 'lots of fetal movements reported by mother, and I saw quite a few myself too!' I think that was nice of her. Being a bit human, having a sense of humour and generally just being nice and friendly counts for a lot when you feel like a big house on two small legs.
I had a real wardrobe meltdown this morning. Dresses have become tops and tops have become, well totally redundant, and I'm always too warm, or too cold, and even with my 6 years as a fashion journalist, I'm never sure what to put my feet in, in this cold but sunny weather. So I tried on several outfits, had a mini (internal) strop and am now all in black. I'm never all in black. It's not me, but it was the least offensive option and thankfully, my body temperature seems to be resting somewhere around normal.
Tomorrow we are off to Bicester to buy DH a new suit. I'm playing the dutiful wife - mainly because I know there is a White Company there that sells cheap baby grows.

A doll in a plastic cervix

We had our first NCT class last night. It wasn't particularly well timed, seeing as it was DH's birthday and Spurs had some big match that the boys found hard not to focus on... but anyway, we made it to the house in Belsize Park and so began our education in getting this little Bear out into the real world.
I am happy to report that my group seems very nice indeed. Surprisingly, I think I was one of the youngest in the room. This says a lot about first time mothers in North West London, but was good, because there weren't any annoying ones, and everyone laughed together at certain things, so I think we'll get on and they'll be a nice support 'on the other side'.
We started by introducing ourselves, and talking about one positive thing we thought about the pregnancy. Ours was a kind of pathetic 'it's been easy', type thing, but there were some lovely stories about couples really connecting together and you could tell that everyone had enjoyed the experience so far. Despite being one of the youngest, I'm actually, on the paper, second in line, to pop. Obviously, due dates don't mean jot, so we'll see where I end up in the birthing order.
Ruth, our teacher, is enthusiastic, and managed to rouse a few glazed-over male eyes, despite all the technical terms and general information overload. We looked at the position of the baby (hence the doll) and did some collective breathing to teach us how it helps with pain; we were all leaning back on our knees at the time and had burning thighs. This was difficult enough with an 8 month bump, so I'm not sure how I'll cope during labour. But best not to think about that now.
Aside from the chocolate digestives, the highlight was probably the film she showed at the end about 'skin to skin' touch straight after the birth. It should little James who had just been born and managed to find his own way to his Mummy's booby. Amazingly, he then instinctively pressed down around her nipple to get the colostrum flowing, and we all coo-ed and ah-ed at the marvel that is childbirth. Another thing I didn't know is that when you are skin to skin with a newborn, the mother's temperature will rise or fall depending on whether the baby needs heating up or cooling down. Wow, isn't life amazing.
We finished with a relaxing, close-the-eyes type session, where Ruth talked about the fact that no wonder babies cry. They have always been carried, and never put down, they've haven't had to ask for food, thanks to a continual supply via the umbilical cord and they miss the reassuring sound mummy's voice, which has been the backdrop to it's life so far. It was rather moving in a way. And then we came home to watch Mad Men.
This was a good distraction, but didn't prevent me from lying in bed and rethinking all the information imparted on us earlier in the evening. The result of all this mental evaluation: 3 hours sleep.

The profile diaries: entry number 4

Sorry, I'm a day late on this. But the chair took precedence. Anyhoo, the profile diary is back to celebrate my 34th week (or 35th week coming, which is the way all the American sites refer to pregnancy time, and which is frankly, rather confusing). Look how much I've dropped. This picture has even surprised me! And that's saying something seeing as I inspect the bump every morning and evening. It certainly feels like the Bear's head is lower. Crossing my legs is a total chore these days, and I walk like a very slow OAP. But anyway, at least things are heading in the right direction.
This picture was taken in our new fashion cupboard. Notice how much nicer, and brighter it is than the hovel we inhabited previously. I am excited to finish work, but I'll miss it too. Especially the bonuses, like the two pairs of cream cashmere socks that I've just swiped for my hospital bag.
In non-materialistic developments, the Bear is EXTREMELY active at the moment and it's slightly freaking me out. It's hard bone against my soft tissue is a feeling that I can't describe. I love how active it is, I find it reassuringly, but the proding and the waves of movement that you can see from several metres away are certainly something to get used to.
It is DH's birthday tomorrow so I've been trying to dart around to get extra bits for him as I like to spoil the old boy on his big day. It turns out that 'just popping into town' after work, isn't quite as easy as it used to be. Yesterday, there were delays on the Bakerloo line so I was sardined in (not comfortable at the best of times) and then, after dragging my butt around the shops, had to run for the bus. I call it running, because in my head, it was a progression from walking, but in truth, I'm not sure I actually picked up any extra speed. Thankfully, the nice driver of the number 6 saw the whale coming and left the doors open. Then I collapsed (as elegantly as possible), into the first available seat and huffed and puffed all the way home.

The nursing chair: Before and After

Look! We have our chair back, and it looks so cheery. That's what I wanted. A happy, playful chair that gives the room a sense of fun. It is also extremely comfortable and feels very sturdy thanks to Steve The Upholsterer. I sat in it comtemplating the changes ahead for a good fifteen minutes yesterday and not a back pain or squashed diaphragm ache in sight! Now I just need one of those funky V pillows to wedge under my (weedy) arm so that I can support this bubba as it feeds.
I also did something crazy this weekend: I BOUGHT THE BUGGY. Yes folks, two sticking points (the chair fabric, and buggy conundrum) have been resolved in one fail swoop. I'll pat myself on the back to make it easier for you. I went for the bigger, more solid Cameleon in dark grey and cream, and it arrives on Thursday, so that is exciting. I also bought the car seat and a poo-ey nappy bin - both vital in very different ways.
It's exciting that things are finally coming together. Especially as I'm going to be done with work next Friday and then I can really focus on the bubba and getting the house ready. There isn't too much more to do, although I need nappies. Isn't that strange? I can't get my head around them. They're even more freak-inducing than the buggy purchase. You have to buy nappies before the baby is born. It's odd. I think I'll take Darling Mother for emotional support.

I hope I'm as creative as this Mummy

How brilliant are these pictures! They were done by a Blogger called Mila's Daydreams (click her name for more), I I think they are totally fantastic. There is so much joy (I hope!) in new motherhood, and this really sums up the fun you can have with your baby. I'm not sure what her background is, maybe she was a set designer before she had Mila, or maybe, she dressed windows? Either way, Mila's Mummy has the most fantastic imagination and I want my baby to look as cute as this while it naps. How she gets it into all these clothes and poses without waking the little tyke is beyond me, but I'll let you know if I manage anything half as fun in the coming months! What a lovely, happy Friday post for you!

Zzzzz

This is me today (although a bit less yellow). Wow, this pregnancy insomnia is driving me c-razy. I fall asleep ok, and then bam, 3am, and I'm wide awake and ready to tackle the day. Last night, I tossed and turned until about 4am and then I gave up and went downstairs. Two things kept me smiling. My lovely Celtic Sheepskin slippers and the fact that I got to Skype chat with lovelyfunnycousin Holly in Australia. It was actually the perfect time to catch each other, so at least I'll have company when I start doing those midnight feeds. I didn't get back to the land of zonk until gone 5am, so today I'm fuzzy-brained and useless.
Happily, I've done something extremely important re the pregnancy: I've booked my last mani/pedi and bikini wax. Vital, I'm sure you'll agree. Phew, at least that is in place.

Hats of to the miners

Clearly, this entry isn't massively baby related, but the rescue story of miners in Chile is all I can think about today. I jumped out of bed (not easy with the bump) and rushed downstairs at 8am today to watch some of the live footage. We - DH and I, I don't think the bear was aware of the news story unfolding in front of our eyes - couldn't believe the amazing scenes of recovery and strength of character that was being beamed live from Camp Esperanza. It really is a tale of survival, endurance and relentless love. Even DH had a tear in his eye as the youngest miner was reunited with his father.
I can't imagine what those families have been through over the past 69 days. And there I was thinking I was having a hard time, with the tiredness and the acid. Stories like these put your live in perspective. They make me think about the big, important things - and people. Seeing as we're on the cusp of becoming our own, new-look Pullen family, this story really makes you stop and focus on what is important.
I didn't mean to get all moral on you. If you're wondering about the Bear, it's fine, thank you very much. We're both looking forward to yoga tonight. For one, it's beats the England football match that we had to endure last night, plus my back is in need of a mammoth stretch.

So I bypasses the hearts...

And went for this spotty pram blanket instead. I know, this is extremely dull information to impart, but today I really don't have much to report. Unless, of course, you want to know about my bad sleeping, funny walking or achey thighs. See, the blanket is interesting, when you put it in context.
Funnily enough, I haven't bought the pram yet. This is mainly because I can get it as 'next day delivery' and for some reason, that freaked me out a bit. Seeing as the cot bed is now in situ (albeit boxed up) and the changing table has been constructed (thank you DH), I think now is the time to deal with the buggy. So I will go forth and order, and then report back with my findings.
On the sex front, no not that kind of sex, the sex of the baby, the last week has been all about BOY. Everyone has suddenly started saying boy again. It's very strange. Even Christian Louboutin (sorry to name drop) who I intereviewed last week was adament. He said, in his jolly French accent, that it's because I don't have 'any of ze pimples'. Mmm, I'm not sure pimples are a sure sign of girl or boy, but the rush of boy feelings has certainly got us firmed up on the name. It's been a struggle getting there, but I think, finally, we have one that we both love. And that will hopefully suit this Bear, if it does turn out to be a Mini Boy Boy.

The profile diaries: part 3

So here I am, 33 weeks and my tummy is getting bigger, rounder and lower. I've definitely felt the change in the past week. When I sit down, the bottom of my bump now rests on my thighs and crossing my legs has become somewhat challenging, which is actually no bad thing as I'm not in this pregnancy thing for varicose veins. What you can't see from the photo, is that the insides of my thighs are also feeling strange. It's as if I've done a mammoth session on the scary leg apparatus in the gym, and yet all I've actually managed - aside from sitting at my computer - is one brisk (ish) walk around Queens Park.
You don't imagine that at this stage, you're still going to feel weekly, sometimes daily, changes, but they are still happening.
Darling Husband had a productive weekend in the nursery. I actually helped put the candy cane style door knobs on the wardrobe, and then while I entertained some of the girls, he built the very chic (sorry, I really like it) chest of drawers. Then John Lewis came and delivered a whole heap of things, blind included, so now although most stuff is still boxed up, we seem to be moving in the right direction!
We took a trip to see Toby's lovely Grandma yesterday. It was a bit sad saying goodbye, as she doesn't live in the UK. A bit like my Nanna. It feels amazing that soon, we'll be making them both Great Grandmas, although sadly neither will be here for the birth. Hopefully, the bubba will make the long trip to Australia in the New Year, and DH's grandma will be able to come over pretty soon after it's arrival too.
It's funny, because this little bear is the first on both sides. That means, we are making siblings into aunts and uncles, parents into grandparents, and so on. It feels nice and special to have this privilege. The little Pullen is going to be one lucky little thing as everyone is so excited and has so much love to give. Let's just hope it's not a crier, or we won't have any visitors!

Hearing Mummy (that's me)

I don't need to read fancy studies (there are plenty, by the way, the most recent was done concurrently in China and Canada) to prove that this Bear knows it's Mummy's voice. We had a little conversation the other morning, and it went something like this. Actually, the start of the conversation was involuntary gurgling from my stomach. As my digestive system gets squeezed to infinity (and beyond) the noises seem to increase. So there I was, half asleep in bed, and my stomach started one of its orchestral symphonies. I'm kind of used to this kind of melody, but the bear had the shock of it's life. The minute my stomach started playing the double bass, the baby kicked and punched and felt like it was having a mild panic attack. It was kind of sad to feel, so I thought, maybe my voice will help soothe its fears.
I started talking. It felt pretty strange - me, alone in bed, talking to an unborn fetus - but the minute I started, the baby calmed down. I said things like, 'It's ok baby, nothing is wrong' and that seemed to do the trick. Until the next rumble gathered pace. Again, the baby didn't know what was going on it's is usually peaceful home (incidentally, we've give the bump an address: Bear Pullen, 1C Lynton Road, NW6 blah blah blah). So, I talked again in a soft, reassuring voice and it helped calm the little one down. Wow, I thought, as I lay essentially talking to myself in bed at 7.30am on a rainy London morning, my baby knows me, it likes me - it's probably the only person in the world who isn't irritated by my whine. Nay, it seems to like the whine.
It was a special moment and I feel that we are closer than ever, me and the Bear. I feel like a real Mummy-in-the-making since our chat the other morning, and, having watched a disturbing programme on children in care homes, I've realised I need to do this baby proud, and give it the best home - with DH, of course - that is humanly possible.

I don't have anything pressing to write about today

So I'm going to waffle on about my hospital 'look'. Yes, it's a pretty amusing oxymoron, as I actually plan to give birth in a pool and thus shall be naked for majority of my time at St Mary's, but when I do get dressed (and if I haven't succumbed to an epidural/c-section and will therefore be wearing a buttock-exposing gown) I hope to wear this nice, soft Topshop night shirt and my very comfy Celtic Sheepskin slippers. I think it's a good look. I will buy a pair of soft grey leggings in case it gets chilly in there, but if I remember correctly from visiting other new Mums, maternity wards are a notoriously warm place to hang out.
I've put the night shirt in the baby of baby bits of bobs (read: clothes) that I've accumulated over the past month or so. It sounds like I have lots, but really, it's just the snow suit, and a couple of pieces I've been given. All need washing so I'll start that lovely chore once work is in my wake (3 weeks, and c-c-c-c-ounting!)
I had a good yoga class last night. One of the ex-attendees arrived at the end with her new daughter Deja. The baby was absolutely gorgeous and the mother extremely interesting. She actually had a water birth at home and felt that the whole thing was much more comforting and relaxing than being in a hospital. I could never do an at-home birth, I'm far too much of a worrier (and cleanliness freak) to deal with all of that, but I liked hearing her story. Things are beginning to feel very real on the birth/baby front. I'm not going to be pregnant forever, there is a baby at the end of the tunnel, and I can't wait to meet it!

Does getting expensive baby stuff for yourself, make the baby spoilt?

I hope not, because I've hopelessly fallen in love with this Anya Hindmarch Baby Emergency Kit. It is a bit like a wash bag with loads of nifty sections inside to keep nappies, creams, clean clothes and the like. It is a stupid amount of money, which is why I'm pulling some strings and hopefully procuring myself this organisational wonder product without parting with any (or very little) money. I will report back on my findings.
So today is a very exciting one, because another bumpette has produced a baby. It is actually Benny Wenny's due date, but seeing as he was born early, he very kindly gave up his due date to another Mummy-to-be in the gang and yes, this morning, a little baby girl was born. Well done P and H! Can't wait to meet her.
My news is rather dull. I'm not as uncomfortable as I was last week although I'm feeling rather hot the whole time. I'm assuming this is to do with the 4.5lb of unborn child that is strapped to my front. Talking of which, my What to Expect When You're Expecting app told me that this week will be the peak of baby kicks and boy, is it right. Apparently, because the amniotic fluid is at an all time low, and my uterus has thinned out, AND the baby's bones are toughing up, this means lots of play time for the bear and not much for me! I'm totally not complaining, by the way. It's an amazing feeling to have your unborn child kicking about in your insides, it just puts one off their Weetabix somewhat at 8am.

The profile diaries: entry number 2

Mmm, another toilet shot, sorry about that. I suppose, if you think about it logically, it's actually pretty apt, what with the amount of time I spend emptying my bladder these days. Sorry, TMI, I know, but hey, I'm about to go through one of the most undignified experiences of my life, so a little bit of toilet talk is nothing these days.
So as you can see, or maybe you can't (sorry about the quality), my bump has definitely grown in the last 7 days. Rather than outwards, I feel like my side have increased, as if my uterus is spreading its wings and I now have bulges where I used to wear a belt. I can even feel the Bear kicking about in its new lateral conversion; it's a bit odd, to be honest. I love the bear's kicks, but kicking in your sides, well, it's never going to feel normal, is it?
As you can see, either foolishly, or brilliantly, I am still in some of my pre-pregnancy gear. I'm not sure if this reflects well on my previous wardrobe choices, but at least I haven't wasted money on empire-line smocks. Seeing as I've saved so much, DH and I have just invested in a Flip video camera. It's to document the little one, from day one (and before actually, DH wants the bump in all its glory wandering around the flat). I'm excited, I've never had a video camera before and this one looks totally foolproof, so I should be able to create some footage of my own once it arrives from Amazon HQ.
There is a lot of purchasing at this stage of pregnancy. I think it's to detract the mind - and body - from the fact that you're carrying around a 4.5lb child 24/7. Heck, it's helping me...

We need a what?!

We need an ear thermometer, apparently. The Big Shop, was a Big success - even down to the tiniest, most thermometer-y details. I thought I was losing DH at the first hurdle when we went to order the blind for the baby's room, and he spent the whole appointment on his phone 'checking the football scores.' Oh dear, I thought, this is going to be a long day. But he perked up when we got into the baby department, and actually had opinions on things like fitted sheets for the cot bed (to terry towel, or not to terry towel?), and was extremely interested in the coconut layer that sits somewhere between the springs and the rest of the bumpf in the baby's mattress.
Granted, I soothed his day with a quick trip to Uniqlo, where I circumvented the women's department and oo-ed and ah-ed as he tried on jumpers.
Then we treated ourselves to a lovely new rug (the baby got one too, obviously) and a decent coffee break and wham, bam, the shopping was done! Of course, we still have a few bits to get, but I feel safe in the knowledge that the bulk of the baby's stuff is arriving in a week and we can start unpacking (him) and washing (me).
The rest of the weekend pasted in a calm, if somewhat sleep-deprived manner. I don't think the orange juice before I go to bed, as advised by my GP to help with iron absorption, is doing anything for my acid attacks. Twice I woke up and built some kind of pillow/seat contraption only to find it less comfortable than being flat and acidy. So although we didn't do much, I'm still a bit whacked. So for once, I'm thankful to those pesky tube workers for striking today. It meant a day at home, and frankly, anyone who helps me achieve one of those, these days, deserves a medal (or at least a pay rise).

THE BIG BABY SHOP

It's happening tomorrow, and if I wasn't so darn tired (long, boring story), I'd be jumping up and down with glee. Instead, I'm amusing myself with this cute picture. Obviously, our trip won't involve two babies, but still, it's a sweet image for a Friday.
I have a list as long as my arm of things to buy, courtesy of Lovely Friend Amy. So I feel prepared and DH is actually quietly excited I think, or at least, not totally dreading the prospect. Especially, as we'll be heading to the baby department via Uniqlo so that he can get some new cords and stuff. I think he's really buying into this Dad Wardrobe thing. He already has two new coats and wants some jumpers too. I'm assuming there are going to be a lot of 'big walks' on the cards.
Anyway, we're going to John Lewis (where else?!), and we're going buy up big on the 4th floor. We're also investing in a Flip video camera so that DH can film the birth. Kidding, seriously kidding. It's so that we can film the little one as it grows up and hopefully enjoys it's life at our little Queens Park home.
The rib/diaphragm (who knew diaphragm had a 'g' in it?!) thing is still a right pain in the chest (ha ha) so I've decided that I'll be spending at least a day a week working from home from now on. Deputy seems to think this is totally fine, and she knows, she popped one out last August and found commuting while you waddle rather taxing too. So I'm relieved that there will be a bit of respite from this office-related body pain. Talking of which, I must dash, have another pregnancy massage to attend to. It's all in the name of work, you know. Boy, I do love my job sometimes. Toodle pip.

The wonderful (if confusing) world of baby blankets

Would it be cruel to wrap a boy in red hearts? I'm trying to find interesting baby blankets (as well as the white cellular ones), that are unisex. This whole unisex thing is really quite tricky. I didn't realise that baby stuff was so regimentally delineated between pink and blue. Seriously, it's almost impossible to find cute stuff that works for both. Obviously, once I know the sex of this little, kicking bundle of Pullen-ness, it'll make life easier, but actually, when I think about it rationally, I'm not sure I like baby blue/soft pink that much anyway! And so the problem will continue.
I find a new area of retail opportunities to think (obsess) about each week. Currently, my mind is on blankets. Don't ask me why, it's just fallen there and won't budge until I buy some, or at least make a decision about whether it would be cruel on a little boy to wrap him in hearts. I don't think so. Babies are cute, they're small, they can take a bit of kitsch, but darling husband isn't so sure. Slight problem. I now love this blanket (I'm imagining it either thrown over the back of the nursing chair, ready for cold night-feeds, or on the buggy). Mmm, perhaps I'll just have to take control and go for it.
In terms of clothes for the little one, I've decided to go all white at the beginning. It's easier, plus I have that cute little elephant baby grow in case I get bored. I was thinking of buying a little hat for a girl, and one for a boy (Gap, £3.50 with discount), for it's first day. And then I realised I'd fallen hook, line and sinker for that old pastelled cliche. Mmm, the trials and tribulations of a Mum-to-be.

So I found myself outside a Marks and Spencer...

... with about 15 minutes to spare, and thought, 'Yipee, the end of my bra dilemma, off I go to find a new bra and some proper comfort in my life.' Twelve minutes later I walked out empty handed. The selection seemed nice enough. There were lacy ones (above), for the Seducer Mum, plain ones, for Little Miss Practical, there was even a leopard print jersey nursring bra, for, well, Me, in theory. I liked the soft finish and cute design. What I did not like was the totally rubbish fit. I tried every size available, well not the ones with an H cup, but pretty much all the rest, and not one of them was right. Some were still too tight in the back, others felt sloppy around the cups, it was a total disaster and I wasn't going to part with £25 just for the sake of having a bra that clips down at the front. I am going to John Lewis. Enough is enough of this JL denial. Plus, it's Never Knowingly Undersold, or something like that. And one of the other Bumpettes works there, so I feel obliged, you know.
Tonight I have pregnancy yoga again. For the first time in my life, well, since ballet classes at St Mary's Hall in Finchley, I look forward to my weekly exercise class. I love the hippy dippy teacher and her funny ways. Even her persistence about breast feeding now washes over me. Plus, I get to hear about the babies that have been born in the past week, which is always a nice start to an evening.
In other news, mmm, there is no other news, apart from me making the nightly bath a regular slot in my calender. Ooo, that warm, bubbly water, it's a world away from work in Wapping.

Bonus post

Just re-found this. It's from fashion week, when Topshop very kindly laid on a golf buggy for me (well, not just for me, but I like to think they had the Pullen Bear in mind when they came up with this ingenious idea).
Anyway, I look enormous, but it's pretty amusing, so I'll share it with you, my most favourite blog readers ever.
Over and out.

The profile diaries: entry number 1

I thought it would be a fun project to document the last weeks of pregnancy with a side-on profile-a-thon, so here is my first photograph. Sorry about the mildly unsanitary background. These are our new office toilets, and while not the most glamourous place, at least they have a large mirror and are relatively private.
Today I am wearing one of only three dresses that are now acceptable in terms of coverage and decency. This one is old, from Whistles. It's comfortable, and although it requires a short black slip beneath, does the job nicely.
Moving on from the dress, I had a long, hot bath last night (blissful) and while I was drying myself and DH was pottering around in the bathroom, we both had a moment of hysteria as we looked at the bump and admired its enormity. It was pretty funny to think that only a few months ago I was a girl with a flat stomach and bee-sting breasts. Actually, I was looking at some old photographs recently and there were a few bikini shots dotted through the folders. I can't imagine being without a bump at the moment, so it was pretty amusing to see my former self. One day, she'll be back (all fingers and toes crossed).
As I grow, the bear remains happy and active. I had a good doctor's appointment yesterday and heard the heartbeat and got a clean bill of health. Both are a relief, although the amount this baby moves I don't tend to worry about it's heartbeat. This morning, it was so active that I became a little bit freaked. There were bangs and kicks and continual whollops in the ribs, despite all the books saying that the baby has less space now and probably won't move that much. Mmm, these books haven't met the Pullen bear and all it's amazing activity.

Crossing off the weeks

Today the Pullen Bear and I are 31 weeks. According to my weekly Baby Centre email, this means that I will be going to the toilet to pee more often (squashed bladder) and the little one is gaining weight, brain power and now using its bone marrow, instead of the liver to produce new red blood cells. It's all very impressive by the little one. As it gets stronger I seem to weaken, but I suppose that is the shape of things to come!
Actually, I'm not feeling as bad as last week. I think the low iron levels really got me and left my body tired and susceptible to other aches and pains. Today I have vowed to not let things get me down. Let's be honest here, yes the bump is getting bigger, but I'm a healthy old girl. I can handle a few extra pounds around my middle, and my back, well it's just going to have to lump it.
While my body (and mind) are resolved to stay stronger, my wardrobe is buckling at the seams. This morning I actually tried on every single one of my dresses in a desperate bid to not look like an enormous beach ball. I don't mind tight, and I don't mind short, but together, no, I'm just not going to subject the world to that any longer. Thankfully my lovely Vanessa Bruno dress that was hanging on the far end of my rail is long and loose but not completely shapeless and I actually feel fine, almost nice, but not quite.
I'm not going to buy anymore maternity bits (there was a long knitted jumper that I perhaps didn't declare on here), because frankly I'm now more interested in tops that will let me get my breasts out at a moment's notice. You see, if I'd said that even two years ago, I'd have been shot down as some kind of Chloe-From-X-Factor type of girl. It's amazing how pregnancy lets you talk about (and show randoms) every bit of your anatomy and nobody judges.

Who'd have know there would be pain in there?

Mmm, I understand that I'm beginning to sound a bit like a very dull, very grumpy old pregnant woman. If this isn't aching, then that is, and if the iron levels aren't rising, then I've got my acid there. You know, you've read, I'm a bit of a bundle of complaints right now. As a disclaimer, I'd like to say, that I am fully aware that my pregnancy has actually be pretty easy and I haven't - and hopefully won't have to - endure any of the scary, traumatic complications that many other women suffer from. For this I am extremely thankful.
But the newest niggle, if you care (I'm sure you don't, but it feels cathartic writing it down) is flared ribs syndrome. What a funny name, you may think. Well, it may very well have an amusing moniker, but the pain, the stretching, the dull aching tenderness around my ribs is a right bummer.
If I lean forward for too long it starts, and obviously, as with everything else muscle related, sitting at my desk only exacerbates the problem, so during the week it's much worse than when I'm wandering around on a Saturday or Sunday.
Apparently, this is perfectly normal, and the FRS generally arises around this time in pregnancy. My uterus is pushing upwards into my diaphram and at the same time, my liagments are softening ready for birth, which means my ribs are opening up and basically everything inside is being blended in some kind of human compression machine. The baby is having a lovely time in its new extended home. It kicks and plays all day long, which I love. At least one of us is happy with the renovations going on.
So I forgot to congratulate myself on reaching 30 weeks! Go me and the Pullen Bear. I'm actually now nearly 31 weeks, which means the clock is ticking. I can also see the light at the end of the work tunnel. 5 weeks today and I'm outta here folks. I'll be sad to leave my little fashion desk. Although I'm sure some lazy days in front of Mad Men repeats will help soothe my transition into maternity leave.

Move over Pamela Anderson

I need new bras. I only realised this when it became apparent that instead of heading straight to the fridge, the first thing I now do when I got home each evening is take my bra off. This is not a usual occurence for someone with a petite set of breasts. And it isn't so much that the cup size has grown (although I'm sure that will happen once the little one shows its face), but that my ribs have stretched and consequently the strap of my bra digs in with gusto from about midday.
It's amazing how people tell you this will happen but I, (worrier extraordinaire) needs to do a Google search for 'pain in rib area' before it clicks that there is nothing medically wrong, it's just that my old (well, just-pregnant) 32C numbers, no longer cut the mustard. In fact, just writing about it now, is making me want to unpop those hooks and let it all hang free. I won't, of course, because I'm in the office and wearing a slim fitting top, but wow, how nice it would be to not feel like I'm being slowly strangling myself around my lungs.
The question is, what size do I get? Do I buy for now, when my boobs are still a 'normal' size, but my back is Jeff Capes size, or invest for later, when my back shrinks (I'm hoping my ribs slot back quite quickly) but the chest up front is rather enormous? Mmm, the dilemmas.
I think I'll go to Marks and Spencer and let the woman in the fitting room guide me. Or maybe I'll head to John Lewis. Wow, my brain is already so mushy. I can't even make a decision between two department stores. Help, people, I've lost my intelligence. Let's hope it comes back, at some point soon, when the 32 inch decides to show its face again.

High fashion kicks

Imagine the scene: I'm sitting at a fashion show, it's the usual procedure. You find your seat, you get comfy, you chat to a few work friends and then it starts. Except at the show yesterday, none of my friends were close by and who sat down by my side, only Anna Wintour. This is mildly amusing in theory, but in practice it's actually quite scary. She really does sit there with big shades on (inside, at 5pm) and doesn't smile, or make any facial movements, for that matter.
What I've noticed, during this London Fashion Week, is that Baby Pullen starts getting busy when the music comes up. At this particular show, it was in an especially frisky mood, so there I am, beautiful Roksanda dresses walking past, editor of US Vogue to my left, and baby is kicking so ferociously that my stomach looks like a bag of live potatoes. I actually laughed out loud, at one point, such was the incongruous nature of the situation. I'm sure AW didn't notice, but I found the whole thing pretty funny.
Despite this, and other enjoyable fashion moments, I have to admit that the end of LFW couldn't have come quick enough this season. I am totally whacked and am at home today part working/part recovering (part going to see the little Benjamin again). Not being in the office is going to become a regular event in 5 weeks time. I'm starting to get quite excited at the prospect, especially as it means that baby will follow (hopefully) soon after.
Darling Husband is going to finish the nursery tonight and then I get can buying!!!! Hip Hip Hooray. I mean, yes, great, we can start getting organised. I'm not desperate to get things sorted, no, not me.

ZZZZZZZzzzzzz

So I'm finding this LFW pretty tough on my body. Yesterday morning, I took a time-out, and sat, whacked drooped over a lap top computer and wondered whether I'd be able to take another 9.5 weeks of this lethargy. And then, after a battle of a day, when I literally ate myself to energy, I received a letter from my midwife saying that my iron levels are too low and I need to go to the clinic and pick up supplements. Right, so that explains why after putting my mascara on (one eye) this morning, my arm actually felt tired. I'm not exaggerating. My body is like a lead weight, so I'm actually excited to get these darn little tabs and start to replenish my energy levels.
In other news, London Fashion Week has seen some pleasant clothes, none of which I can wear of course. Everyone is being very nice and giving the bump a wide bearth. If I listen to my fashion set, it's going to be a boy. Everyone has said it. Mmm, a BBF for little Benjamin. How cute.