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Today is my granny's hundredth birthday, and she celebrates a whole century of surviving the jolly wars of Europe and at least 80 years of telling people they are eating too much and that their buttocks are too big.

Happy 100 years granny! I hope you are having a splendid day. x

As for those among us who are unborn:

Apparently I am gestating a giant. Not a massively heavy baby but a tall one , whose long femur bones have pushed my uterus into my ribcage (Z: "Are you sure it's mine?") so that it's measuring several centimetres above average in fundal height causing people's heads to wrinkle with concern at antenatal appointments and me to enjoy all-you-can-eat wealth of ultrasounds. Thankfully the baby is still measuring within the normal range, just at the upper end of it.

By the sounds of it this is not an unusual occurence in the family. At birth I was a very tall, and very slim baby (Z: "So what went wrong?") and so were my ancestors.

As my achey breakey pelvic and I sail into the third trimester with its grim promises of how much worse I'm going to feel, and struggle to breathe for two people especially when one of them insists in kicking you in the spleen, I find myself once more seeking the refuge of the sofa as I did in those wretched first months.

Now it's not the tiredness that gets me so much as the pelvic pain which in particularly excruciating moments (like when I want to roll over in bed say) feels like two segments of a broken bone grinding together. Or else being repeatedly stabbed with an incadescent poker. Therefore my social activities of late have been reduced to petting the cats and weeping bitter tears (and First Cat for one is really enjoying me not being able to move, since immobile human = so much petting that he is starting to fray with the ecstasy).

Also, I think the baby likes to plan ahead. For about two months now at every appointment and scan he's been curled up head down, gently head-butting my cervix and bladder. This I expect is another vote for Camp Capricorn because I'd expect a future Sagittarian to get up to a lot more cartwheeling and whizzing around.

But it's not all doom and gloom in maternity world. My skin is flawless, my belly remains fairly compact, I am wearing blue fishnets and my booty has finally been united with a perfect pair of maternity jeans. If you can't have your health, you might as well have cute outfits I say.


Oct. 5th, 2007 09:19 am (UTC)
Welcome to sciatica, Braxton-Hicks contractions, and squashed bladder and lungs. I thought I should have "Hindenburg" sewn onto my one remaining T-shirt that fit, by that time.

It's exactly like when people used to make me run with the other children when I was at school, and I'd be wiped out three quarters of the way through the track.


deep sky, firefly

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