It turns out my sixth sense was completely off track. The weekend was great (if tiring) and nothing unpleasant happened. We enjoyed the already scorching sun at playgrounds and beaches, ate a lot of strawberries, met with friends and the husband and I even managed to squeeze in a visit to the cinema Saturday night.
Sunday morning I had a visit with my gynaecologist at hospital. I went alone as my husband was working and decided against taking Maia because they had to take some blood samples and I didn’t want her to associate pregnancy with anything negative. So, in the past three weeks the baby has put on 700 grams and I put on an additional 300 grams. Its head is squeezing my bladder against my hip bone which translates into trips to the loo every half hour or so. All seems to be going great and I really cannot complain about anything much. I don’t really care about the constant heartburn and the exhaustion brought on by the simplest of tasks. My feet have finally started to swell and my back feels like it’s about to snap after 6pm but, all in all, I feel great. It took me a long time to start enjoying this pregnancy but now I can honestly say that I’m in the honeymoon phase…a tad late, I know.
Every single day I get asked by many people how many days are left to the big event. When I tell them there’s another eight weeks to go, the reaction is invariably one of shock. They’re so shocked that none of them have so far managed to conceal their surprise. As regular readers will know, I was concerned about my belly’s size for many months but now I am quite proud of it. I am amazed at my body’s ability to carry this big bump without keeling over and at my skin’s elasticity. I know exactly what my midriff is going to look like in a couple of months’ time, having already experienced the traumatic event, but at this point I couldn’t care less. We are also taking bets on the sex of the baby. It’s amusing to hear people’s theories on why they think it’s a boy (belly points forward) or a girl (my lips are fuller). I don’t believe the shape of the bump has anything to do with the sex of the baby but I’m really enjoying having the sex guessed by total strangers. Most of them seem to think it’s a boy I’m carrying. What do you think?