Is it sad that today I aspire to be like Garfield? He always seems to sleep so well, whether or not he's in the dirty lasagne dish. I, on the other hand, am not sleeping well. I am not good when I'm tired, so you may notice that the tone of this post could, at a push, be described as grumpy, or terse, or just take-me-back-to-bed exhausted. You see, I fall asleep ok. No problems there. But then I wake in the middle of the night, and get strange thoughts in my mind. Twice this week I've been totally convinced that we've been entertaining a gaggle of burglers downstairs, although Darling Husband, after a quick scoot around the property, assures me it's all in my mind.
Poor husband. He tries so hard, and I wake him up so often. So what are the reasons for these stupid thoughts, strange dreams and general noctural unrest? Well, as with everything else in pregnancy, when the medical experts are at a loss for an explanation, they just cite hormones. One small word, a million different side effects.
So the hormones are officially making me go mad. Not during the day, I'm fine then, so please don't cancel plans with us, I won't start accusing you of stealing my hydrangeas. The craziness happens at night. I'm like a big, fat, pregnant werewolf. But obviously with less hair.
So that is the moan over. And here is the happy, warm-your-heart bit. Yesterday I had another midwife appointment. I actually met with the same one who conducted my first meeting, and I'm now crossing my fingers (in vain, clearly) that she'll be there for the big event too. She's so nice, and cuddly and laughs at my jokes. We did a little heartbeat listening. It was going nice fast, and the baby was moving around lots and sounding like it was having a very nice time in there.
Then, I got home and accidentally punched myself in the stomach. Don't ask. It involved a baked potato and some clumsiness. Anyway, I FREAKED OUT. But then the little Pullen Bear moved about as normal as I tried to concentrate on my work (and watch the women's semi-finals at Wimbeldon). So I'm feeling calmer now.
My dearest Mother also reassured me, saying that she fell on her bump, very publicly, and there doesn't seem to be too much wrong with the Bro Bro.
I also did a quick vox pop with friends and everyone, it seems, has had some bump bumps.
So I'm going to contain that worry again. It's hard, but I'm really trying to be level-headed these days. Although the same can't be said at night.
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