The Knocked Up Wrap UP: 40 Weeks – Evict The BABY!

Posted on June 11, 2013 by Vicki

The fact I am writing this probably tells you I’m not struggling with sleep deprivation, no leaking breasts, or at least no newborn child to snuggle up to. Where is the child????? HELLO???? I keep telling the little fecker it’s time. TIME. Don’t get greedy, my uterus has put up perfect conditions for the past 40 weeks but it doesn’t pay to hang around passed the welcome date. I am in a bit of flap despite only being 4 days over due. I know I’m a loony but I’m fearing the medical eviction notice which will be served in about a weeks time if there is diddly-squat. I experienced an induction with Little Vick and I would do anything to avoid it again. Probably even start running bare footed and wombat like up the highway but you and I both know I wouldn’t get very far without a potential prolapse.

I’m trying so hard to not get too anxious about the WHEN but it’s proving to be a bit tricky. I’m getting that naggy I wanna know or is that something thought constantly in my head just like when I was waiting to find out if I was actually pregnant. So here I am waiting again at the opposite end of it all. It’s the pits really. It eats away at you. The days suddenly seem so much longer. Activities and jobs seem boring and I’ve developed a serious case of the whatev’s.

I’ve had a few restless nights because my mind has been playing cruel tricks on me. I’ve had moments of complete flatness. Blueness. Not my usual style (hormones yes?), I have been saying to myself why do my babies like to hold on??? What is it that makes me so good at carrying babies that I want to keep carrying them… for like, ever. I was crucifying myself about this the night before I was even due. I’m a moron. Complete and utter nutter. That anxiety is probably exactly what is keeping that little baby in there holding tight.

Needless to say, I’ve been displaying a bit of a punky attitude with all these thoughts and emotions and hormones swirling around. Mr Vick is running a gauntlet trying not get stuck or in trouble too much. So far, he hasn’t filed for divorce despite the I’m full term and I can be moody if I want to being thrown around. No man should think his sensitivities will get considered at such a time surely?

It’s not all bad though. We have been happy little homing pigeons too the past week and it’s lovely to spend that time so insular with our little boy who’s very existence is also going to change dramatically within moments of the babies arrival. I’ve been noticing all his beautiful little ways. Trying to play a little bit more with him. Laughing with him more. Snuggling more. He deserves it. He is divine. I guess that’s what I’m doing all this for right? To get another delicious little person? I have to keep telling myself this when my mind flickers to visuals of labour trauma which includes an image of me splitting in half delivering this precious little person. I know, I’m being dramatic aren’t I? But I think I’m a tinsy bit scared…

With that said I have been trying all the usual old house-wife tricks of the trade to get things moving. I’m such a skeptic though. They’re all such a heap of hooey, but do you think I can shake the idea from Mr Vick’s head that nooky is going to bring the baby on?? It’s a wives tale that I suspect was actually conveniently mustered up by a husband because every woman knows nooky when you’re 40 weeks knocked up is the most awkward, un-sexy and un-porno thing EVER.

I’ve tried curries, walking, massage, even gotten some Clary Sage oil out… nothing. Nuda. Zilch. I was hoping through my reading that there would be a recommendation for junk food for inducing labour, ‘cos then I’d totally have my legs up in the air. Last night I had Mint slice biscuits, M & M’s, salt & vinegar chips and Ginger Ale for my telly viewing. Zippo on finding any reading proof on that however. I think there was only mention of double chins.

Physically I’m more and more like a 99 year old. The pressure in my bum at times creates almost a numbing sensation… (and yet nothing??). When I try and roll over at night I have to heave my stomach up and slam it over. I grunt and get puffed. I actually get puffed from rolling over in bed. See, time to evict the baby before my lungs collapse!

Not many preggies get excited about this, but I’ve developed some cute little Braxton Hicks. Something I didn’t experience with pregnancy #1. I find them endearing. Some more proof I’m a crazy lady I know, but they suggest hope that things are warming up and so I don’t mind Mr Hicks hanging about in my belly. This time too my vanity must have departed because I don’t seem to mind the big spider stretch marks which have developed across my spanning belly. With Little Vick I was uber conscious of them and diligently smearing cream on the bump twice a day. I was afraid of having stretch marks and felt fortunate to only got a few cute ones low at the very end. This time it’s a complete stretch mark blow out. I have that stretched to the beejebers skin now and I’m OK with it. It’s a mark of my bodies triumphs. I have a sense of pride about them.

Tomorrow I head to the hospital to check up on this naughty little bubba. They will make sure I still have a devoted placenta and enough fluid to keep the baby swimming a bit longer. I am also quite certain they will start poking around in there trying to irritate that cervix which seems to wanna hold tight. THEN there might be some real action. Please feel free to barrack for Baby Vick’s arrival, pronto. Come on, let me hear you say it: EVICT THE BABY! EVICT THE BABY! EVICT THE BABY! EVICT THE BABY!

If you’ve been a baby carrier, did you go over?

Thanks to Essentially Jess and her #IBOT linky party for me letting join in

Hip Not Just Hippo!

Posted on June 10, 2013 by Vicki

Do you remember how maternity clothing phobic I was? I wrote about my despair here earlier in my pregnancy. I endeavoured to keep maternity not just hippopotamus looking but hip. I wanted to bring some colour, a splash of retro and style to my 9 months of preggie incarceration. I wanted to avoid Kmart and Target where possible and I’ve done my best. Today I share with you some of my favourite preggie outfits. It’s true there are more, but let’s be honest I’m not getting out my PJ’s for any cause right about now not to mention to have my picture taken.

It was all about the right dress! Thanks ASOS, Dorothy Perkins, Metalicus & many a corner Nanna Op Shop for your assistance in my bump styling.

And when my hair has been looking super crapola, which is most average days with preggie lackluster, the old trusty vintage scarf has stood by me for a bit of colour and flare.

So, hip not just hippopotamus?

Wordless Wednesday: The 39 Week Preggie Pap Moment

Posted on June 4, 2013 by Vicki

It’s always nice to have a little memento of pregnancy. It’s about as extraordinary as it gets for a woman and I do love a preggie bump. It’s beauty. My friend Louise from Mugshotphotos took some snaps over the weekend and I think she has done a mighty fine job of capturing my 39 week bump:

You can follow Mugshot photos on Facebook & Instagram

Where Did All the Preggies Go?

Posted on May 31, 2013 by Vicki

I’m 39 weeks knocked up. Up until now there has been no letting up. My life has been a juggle of house hold duties, mothering, baby set up, appointments and social events. It’s true the social events might be winning the stakes. The bump and I have been spotted gallivanting out and about past dark on many occasions in the past couple of weeks. Actually in the past 10 days I’ve been to the theatre 4 times and all of them have required a trip to the city (an hour by train or car). It’s been a blast!

Part of me suspects that I book so much in pre baby ‘cos in the depths of my mind I think once this baby arrives I will never be able to leave the house ever again. An exaggeration of course, but none the less it’s a fact that my freedom will be more restricted with 2 children. For a bit anyway. So why would I say no now whilst I’m able? Well… plenty of people can give me a multitude of reasons. In fact I am constantly cautioned by those who know better, or who love me.

Of course, I have had to be very conscious of looking after myself. I learn’t the hard way recently. You can pretty much guarantee that if you go out with you gf’s until 2am, that will be the morning your toddler decides to rise and thump about the house at 6am and demand your full attention. All day long. I wanted to kill myself. For the next 3 days actually as I tried to catch up on the sleep thing. Definitely can’t do party like I used to.

I do have one final social event on the pre bubba calender however and that’s on tonight and yes, it is a big ask. We’re travelling down to our home town of Warrnambool for a relatives birthday celebration. It requires a 2 hour car journey both ways which seems to frighten the bejeebers out of everyone except me. Mr Vick knows not to bother persuading me otherwise but my father in law is nervous about it. Almost breaking out in a sweat at the thought. I told him it would be all good. Going to Warrnambool was not like travelling to Europe and we already know that trip has been done! My sister in law who is 36 weeks pregnant won’t be making the trip for the party. I can’t blame her. It’s sensible but I just don’t see myself missing out. Besides a long car trip might be just what this baby needs to get moving out and as I keep reminding people Warrnambool does have a hospital.

One preggie at the theatre during the week

Last night whilst I was out at the theatre, again, my gf noticed the amount of people blatantly staring at me. Everywhere I go there are eyes on me. People can’t help but look. It’s true, I take up a lot of space and I don’t try and hide the fact that I’m expecting. I’m bumpin’ and proud. I have stopped noticing the eyes which continuously follow me but my gf’s find it amazing my celebrity like status and the constant attention pregnancy seems to evoke. Men gawk and woman often give me greasy stares. Why? I’m not sure.

I looked around last night and asked: where are all the other preggies? Not another in sight. Come to think of it, I haven’t been seeing any out past dark or rooming the city streets…for like, ever. Are they hibernating in the warmth of their lounge rooms getting massages from their doting husbands? Are they taken hostage in the supermarket by their own cravings? Have they been shipped off to the quiet confines of suburbia? Mr Vick did attempt that but he couldn’t stop the trains departing for the city and me getting on them.

I had the same realisation when I was in London. People liked to look at me there too. I did not see any other preggies whilst playing tourist in London. I just thought it was a London thing. Once children are in the picture families can’t afford to live in the pricey metropolis of London, but it appears to be the same here in Melbourne. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there are plenty of cutesy expanding bumps hidden underneath the black winter jackets that walk the streets of Melbourne but certainly no statement bumps demanding for the public to move aside for them to get through. No I’m gonna drop me waters on ya foot kind. Except for me.

So, it does make me ask, am I too adventurous for a preggie? Am I not behaving as a preggie should? Have I missed something? I know. I should be getting as much rest as I possibly can. I should put my feet up and have hot baths and all that but it’s just not me to lay low. I don’t think it ever will be. I consider it my youthful duty to participate in normal young people things. Life stuff. To stay in the loop with pop culture, with my friends who are yet to do the family thing. If I didn’t I just wouldn’t be myself and I am so fortunate to have a husband who encourages me and supports me. He has been the best house wifey the past few weeks just so I can be a social, money spending butterfly. I know not every preggie is blessed with that.

Times have changed for preggies. In my mothers generation you did stay home. You hibernated for the final month of pregnancy because you were a delicate commodity who should not be rushed, stressed or exerted for fear of going into labour or causing complication. You also didn’t sing from the rafters I am knocked up with a clingy, skin tight, look-at-me polka dot dress. You behaved and dressed with much more subtlety. It was all loose fitted, moo moo’s from what I can gather. The type of outfit that only makes me want to dry retch.

Such attitudes are still present in different areas of the world. I recall a time when I was in Italy and had to catch the train from Venice to Rome and when I enquired about the duration of the train trip the hotel attendant took one look at my 28 week bump and told me it wouldn’t be possible for someone in my condition. I politely chuckled and informed him that I was required to be in Rome so that I could catch my 26 hour flight back to Australia, solo. He nearly fell flat to the ground.

Perspective is an interesting thing. I have never viewed myself as having a condition. To be fragile or particularly delicate. If anything pregnancy gives life and a chance to celebrate it and I listen to my body. I’m careful with her, but she is a trooper no doubt. It’s true, I am a blessed preggie.

How do you do pregnancy? Where you delicate with yourself or did you keep busy? Would you be making the 2 hour trip at 39 weeks pregnant? Tell me, tell me….

Double bumpin’

Posted on May 21, 2013 by Vicki

From the creators of this irresistible cuteness:

and this:

Comes a new lovable production of double trouble.

See in production sneak peak pictures here first:

Megumi: 26 weeks pregnant and me, 28 weeks

Grandchildren come into this family in two’s. Megumi and I are sisters by marriage. We married 2 brothers. We had our first babies within 4 months of each other and now we return to the preggie state again, together, with just a mere 2 weeks apart.

Our pregnancies are both healthy and yet different. Megumi is a typical preggie who endured nauseating morning sickness for the first trimester, she gets back ache, uncomfortable Braxton Hicks and then there’s me, who with a bit guilt says this – gets none of it. There are days when I have been envious of her Braxton Hicks… I mean, what do they really feel like? And moments that I wished I could just take a days worth of morning sickness to ease the burden even if just momentarily for her.

In Japan, Megumi’s home country, a woman is expected to only gain up to 5 kg’s during her entire pregnancy. I know, I know… crazzzzzy hey? Megumi at times wishes she could keep to that strict norm. I, on the other hand eat 5 kg’s of chocolate a night and replicate a motto a little like get fat and get beautiful during pregnancy. I’m not always a good influence.

It’s special bringing new additions into a family together. We regularly check in with one another. Talk symptoms, birth, parenting conundrums. We became Mothers together. We empathise together. We learn together.

Little Vick and his cousin learn together too. They have a special bond. They’re so close, in age and in heart and now they will face the challenges of welcoming a new sibling together. Siblings who I hope will be bonded just as the first pair are in time to come.

So now, we are taking bets about who will have their baby first! Little Vick put his feet up and stayed put (he arrived 2 weeks late after being induced) and Megumi who had a BIG baby first time round may need to be brought on early…so who knows who’ll get to meet their babe first :) We often joke we could be in the birthing suite together. Yes, that would be a bit freaky.

Here is our latest & probably final preggie bump shot together:

So who’s your money on?

Today I am linking up with Essentially Jess via the #IBOT linky party

The Knocked Up Wrap Up: FULL TERM (Eeeppp!)

Posted on May 20, 2013 by Vicki

How Knocked Up: 37 weeks. Full term technically (baby would be happy and competent if it decided to launch).

A Knocked Up Thought: I can’t help but hear the 1980′s hit “The final Countdown” do do do doo, do do do do dooo in my head. You hearing it too? Although I suspect it is probably a couple of weeks premature, but hey, stranger things have happened right? There is definitely a building sense of excitement in our household. It’s nice. There’s nothing ordinary about our existence at the moment. There’s a sense of anticipation, a building climax. There’s preparations. It’s pushed Mr Vick and I into talking about stuff. The denial about the imminent change is being forced to unveil a little. We’re talking about what we would have carefully considered and contemplated months ago with my pregnancy with Little Vick. Things like birth preferences, a carer for Little Vick during birth, what life is going to be like…. ya know, pretty important kinda stuff. We’ve been feeling super cool and relaxed, which I think isn’t a bad thing.

The nursery is in development. Finally. Mr Vick reluctantly gave up his man cave for this bubba in belly and I’m now trying to find homes for things that once occupied our spare room/Mr Vick’s man cave. It’s fair to say it doesn’t yet look too much like a nursery but it feels like a space for the baby and that is keeping my nesting preggie contented (and quiet). I’ve started the wash up of teeny tiny clothing and I was delighted to see such mini me things on our clothes line once again. I’ve even packed up my hospital bag. In honour of this I had to stock up on some things that I haven’t seen for nearly 3 years. I can’t say I was that stoked to be perusing the breast pad section once again. Sigh.

Also I’ve noted how I am an elderly ladies best friend suddenly. For the most part they haven’t wanted to know me until now. Now that I am the goddess of fertility and it’s all out on show I’m like a magnet to the old. You can guarantee our conversations go a little like this: you musn’t have long now? No, just a couple of weeks. Is it your first? No, I’ve got another another. Boy or girl? Boy How old? 2 and a half Oh well…. you’re going to have your hands full then aren’t you?! Their warmth and obvious sentimentality for this time in their life is endearing. I do like the old ladies. It reminds me what a special time in my life this is.

A Knocked Up Feeling: Oh don’t worry my mental state is rock solid. Kinda. Picture this. Me hitting a curb whilst parking the car, and bursting into tears ’cos Mr Vick gave me the slightest (and I really do mean slightest) WTF kinda looks. Complete emotional break down was had on my behalf and Mr Vick did not even say a single word to cause it. So we sat in the car, me sobbing, Mr Vick looking desperately concerned and perplexed about what he’d done to cause such a catastrophe. It passed and we got on with it. Nothing more was said about it.

The Knocked Up Physical: I have gotten to the point where I can’t remember what it’s like to not be knocked up. To just have my body to myself. To not share it. To not look and feel like Humpty Dumpty. To not be restricted bending over, getting up, seeing my lady bits even. I am looking forward to the relief that will be brought about after getting Baby Vick vacated and once again having ownership and perhaps it’s not too far away???? A visit to the midwife nearly 2 weeks ago informed me that Baby Vick’s head has started to engage in the pelvis. Woot! This got me excited (Little Vick was induced 13 days late) about the possibility of a naturally occurring labour. Apparently the baby is almost half way engaged which could mean something or nothing for my imminent labour.

I’m happy to report that some of the physical bothers noted in my last wrap up post have let up a bit making me actually well and without complaint. I know. That shouldn’t happen. Isn’t it supposed to be getting worse for me at this point? No self induced back ache from over eating, no mad weeing dashes to the loo during the black of night, no puffiness, no lack of space for food consumption. All smooth sailing. It’s true. One of my talents is pregnancy.

Knocked Up Foodie: I somehow have convinced myself that Cadbury Snack chocolate should be a daily addition in my diet.

The Babe in the Knocked Up Belly: There is a mighty fine circus performance going in there pretty much full time every day.

Favourite Preggie Moment: We have the nappies ready to go. The newborn, itty bitty, unbelievably mini nappies that seem way too small to fit any little toosh into. I opened up the box with Little Vick and we both were overwhelmed with goo’s and gah’s at how unbelievable adorable they are. Little Vick too had a moment of realisation about just how small his sibling is to be. It was a lovely moment shared.

Knocked Up Bump Watch:

Here’s the heifer lump… looking all round in her glory…

The Knocked Up Wrap Up: 34 Weeks

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Vicki

*WARNING: This contains vaginal references. Vaginal mutation references even (yes, be scared)*

How Knocked Up: 34 Weeks

A Knocked Up Thought: So I said Hasta La Vista to my 2nd Trimester in my last post and have found myself here. Final trimester. You know you’re in the 3^rd trimester when you suddenly develop old age. I kid you not I’m becoming frail at the rate of Benjamin Button in reverse. I mean don’t get me wrong I’m still good at this gig. I’m fairly smug about that. I don’t get half the problems the average preggie gets, so this shouldn’t be seen as an official complaint. However it does mean that if I’m running late, say for the theatre, I shouldn’t preggie sprint 3 blocks to get there on time. ‘Cos I gotta whole lotta weight on top of my pelvis which is gonna cause havoc. It would be like sprinting with a 10kg weights bar resting on your abs and you would never consider doing it right? Noooooo….. Let’s just say things wern’t the same for a little bit there after that. When I rolled out of bed the next morning I nearly collapsed because it felt like I had 36 elephants dragging down on my vjay-jay. I hobbled, kinda, in the way only a woman with a sore poonani does for the next 24 hours and ever since I have had some pressure feeling down there that I don’t particularly appreciate.

A Knocked Up Feeling: There’s always lots of feelings when you’re pregnant. Too many really. They can get a bit overwhelming. For example the other day I just burst into tears because there was no milk left for my cereal. Pathetic clearly. Generally I’m not always a loony. Although I did catch myself thinking this morning, whilst buttering some bread, that I needed to fill a vase up. So what did I do? I found myself putting my knife under some running water… ?!?! Clearly 2 thoughts at once is a hopeless case. Placenta brain totally in force here.

Knocked Up Physical Bits: Whilst I’m winging about the physical, I might as well get
this off my chest too. Varicose veins. Yep. Down there. I know, if you’ve not been pregnant before or had them, then you’re probably having the same reaction I had too. WTF? You can get them down there???? I’ve started calling it my mutation. My oh so not very sexy vaginal mutation. It does wonders for the morale.

I have heard not a breath about such mutations from anyone else before. It seems to be an unspoken symptom, so I’m saying it. Putting it out there. Be warned, get knocked up, you might get a vaginal mutation. I’m telling you it’s what goes on (sometimes). Apparently, according to Google, it’s very common for second pregnancies and often occurs around the 26 week mark and I’m like a walking text book or Google site anyway ‘cos you guessed it I suddenly developed such veins at 26 weeks. Second baby and my vjay jay if not already severely altered from round one is clearly never going to be the same. Its giving itself a make over and I don’t likey. It’s a real conversation starter too – *note sarcasm to the max*. I was particularly shy and coy with the prospect of getting my mutation out for the spunky doctor named Hugo the other day. Of course it had to be a he, and a spunky he at that. He admitted that he was not a vaginal varicose vein specialist. I figured. His best piece of advice was if they burst, best come back and see him.

Knocked Up Foodie: I don’t think what I have written for this section has changed for the entire pregnancy. Each time I say, food is good. All food is good. I remain constant about this. Although I have a bit a of crush on fried mushrooms in garlic and olive oil. So scrummy.

The Babe in the Knocked Up Belly: Happy chappy it seems. Very delighted with lots of things judging my the high kicks and somersaults that’s been fully executed. Likes the odd rough and tumble with his Daddy who insists on poking into my belly for a reaction. I then only feel like jabbing his Daddy in the balls.

Favourite Knocked Up Moment: I do love how my Little Vick fits so nicely over my bump when I lift him up for snuggles. These days are limited at this point so I’m relishing them. I just love how his legs split either side over my bump so perfectly and we are all together in one little embrace. Yeah, that’s pretty neat and I never realised how much a weight lifting champion I would become.

I also have become amused by the fact that wherever I go now I am a real traffic stopper. Quite literally. Cars see me coming and clearly decide they would come off second best if they tried to take my heifer-lumpness on so they politely stop to let me cross. I will be making full use of this right till the end despite the statement it is making about my growing whale status.

Knocked Up Belly Shot:

Look at these knockers?!?! Definitely getting ready for some Mummy feeding action.

Oh hello Metalicus… you know you’re the only thing I can wear now with your extra bit of stretch. I love the excuse.

So… let the final count down begin!

Knocked Up Wrap Up: Hasta La Vista 2nd Trimester!

Posted on March 7, 2013 by Vicki

How knocked up: 26 weeks (27 tomorrow) and living the final days of the 2nd trimester!

A Knocked Up Thought: Thought? Do I still have those? Unless it’s habit then I don’t remember to do it or take it or buy it. Brain has been in tact until about now but preggie brain is catching like a well developed disease with no likely cure. Symptoms include leaving bags behind in public places, purchasing everything bar the intended item at the supermarket, leaving behind my toddler… just joshin’ about that last one That’s post baby.

I also have become acutely aware that I am about to farewell the 2nd trimester and we all know what that means. 3rd and final stage. The waddling, wee leaking, cant tie my shoe laces, about to drop my v-jayjay stage and actually I don’t fear it. I don’t even fear the labour but I kinda fear that spaced out, exhausted post baby state which is inevitable. The reality of a new baby and a new baby + toddler. Worse things have happened to woman I know but I just get the personal challenges which will come about from that time. The inability to hold a proper conversation aside from nodding my head vaguely, the loss of personal hygiene, the lack of productivity and the frustration of that, the isolation. Getting the picture? I know so many of you know. Really know. I get that it will be a lovely, unifying time for my family as well but still the dark side is on my mind. One thing that I find reassuring is something that Mr Vicks aunt told me when we were trying to decide whether to have another babe or not. She said God only sends babies that a family can cope and manage with. I’ve always been fond of that little one liner so I’m holding it close.

Knocked Up Feeling: Heat + an additional 10kg heifer lump to carry around is yes, definitely as fun as you’d be thinking. Combined with a late night and I become the over-heated, cranky cow. A delight really. I am only capable of watching The Bachelor on the couch at such times and cannot be blamed.

Knocked Up Physical Bits: Oh hello thrush, so pleased you decided to come back and haunt this pregnancy too. I was thinking how super great I am at this encore knocked up session avoiding the itchy and scratchy show and then I flee for a weekend away where extra sweets were consumed and you invade my vjay-jay and I’m all unhappy and want to scratch my lady bits clean off once again. You are the bain of my life! But this time I win. Nothing is more scary for thrush than little live bugs in the form of a tablet otherwise known as pro-biotics. Why I did not do some reading on this first time round I have not the foggiest but I’m happy to be kickin’ it now with my little bug pills. I am never just relying on some foot fungus cream ever again. The pills are here to stay, no more itchy and scratchy show from this day.

If the thrush wasn’t sexy enough the varicose veins are surely a good look but something I DO love that’s apart of the physical changes is an outie! Yes, I feared a no show with Little Vick only to get one on the home run at 38 weeks and here I am proudly sporting a nice little beauty at 26 weeks! Now that I am happy about!

The Knocked Up Foodie: I’m good at eating. Happy to eat everything because everything tastes pretty shit hot. Still perturbed that I haven’t been a crazy, demanding preggie who requires obscure foods at less than convenient times. Instead Mr Vick has confessed to and has surely proven that he is having my cravings for me. This is a re-occuring symptom evident in the first pregnancy too. Some reverse psychology for sure. Food is doing a very quick disappearing act from the pantry after my grocery shopping efforts and he actually said to me last night can you please have a craving for KFC soon? Please….

The Babe: Biff, bam, wriggle, wriggle, bumpety bump, bump, squirm, wriggle, wriggle…..zzzzzzz……….zzzzz……. Biff, bam, wriggle, wriggle, bumpety bump, bump, squirm, wriggle, wriggle….. that’s what I know of this babe.

Favourite Knocked Up Moment: Little Vick is still convinced on the idea he is having a sister but on occasion he will entertain the idea of having a brother. He has decided that if he does he will look something like this:

I’m not too certain if he is referring to the boy or chicken. I’m thinking the chicken is probably more likely.

Knocked Up Belly Shot: 26 weeks

and yes, this is totally what I look like most days around the house

The Knocked Up Wrap Up

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Vicki

How knocked up: 19 weeks

A little knocked up thought:

I’ve reached the 4 months and three quarters mark and where did the last month or two go I ask?? It seemed to just zooooom. Perhaps it was ‘cos I was awake and doin’ stuff and not in some debilitating, sleepy zombie like state which can only be induced by a first trimester. Who am I kidding? It will return promptly after birth for me to fumble
through I suppose.

So 4 months. Almost 5. I’m glad. The further I get away from that vulnerable first trimester the more I can breathe. See, with Little Vick I never doubted he was meant to be in the world. I was somewhat ignorant. I just trusted it would be a breathe easy pregnancy and it was. This time I am more the realist. I now know what I would be losing if I did indeed suffer a miscarriage. It has definitely played on my mind more prevalently round two and the more I am around baby making woman the more miscarriages I hear about. 1 in 3 pregnancies end in miscarriage. When I think about those close to me, a large majority of them have suffered at least one miscarriage. My mother, my sister, my sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, fellow bloggers, many friends… and they’re just the woman I know about. So many miscarriages are endured in silence. Woman grieve quietly.

Almost 5 months. 19 weeks. This must be for real. Anything can happen but I think I can chillax a bit more.

First pregnancy I was glued to my preggo Bible (What to Expect When You’re Expecting) but I have only picked it up the once this time and I put it straight back down when I read something that I couldn’t possible keep up or succed at. I was a bit narky about it actually. See, as of 15 weeks I should now be trying to sleep on my left side ONLY. That meaning, not on my back, not on my belly and not on my right side. Only one option! For the next 25 weeks! Are they for real? I know medically there are reasons but honestly I’m thinking I might just burn the preggo Bible. Don’t they know it’s my second pregnancy and that when my head hits that pillow I’m out like a drugged koala after scooting around after a toddler all day. I can not be blamed for which way my body decides to fall and turn during it’s slumber surely? No one can keep up rules like that. Can they? Did you follow the rules when you were pregnant?

Speaking of pregnancy no no’s, I have been the naughtiest little preggo eater. If there was someone regulating such things, I would be jailed for my weaknesses. Christmas is the most evil invention ever for a pregnant woman. E-V-I-L, I say. Talk about ham whore. I ate whole piglets I tell you (sorry for the visual veggo’s). They say pregnant French woman still eat soft cheese during pregnancy, Japanese preggos eat raw fish still and I say Aussie woman, if my existence was examined, eat ham. Bring on the pig!

Knocked up feeling: Terribly normal and boring aside from the slightest hassle of heart burn which appeared around 15 weeks and disappeared again at the end of that week. It was a surprising symptom considering I’ve never had a moment of heartburn in my life
which is quite the miracle considering how furiously I like to eat. It’s a bad trait from my Mother, who eats like she is still in the depression.

Knocked up physical bits: Getting fatter with every blink and growing tired of the you must be having twins jokes. Not that funny actually. Although the bump is sizely enough as I can no longer see downwards towards my southerly regions. I have to bend over if I want to see if my Punnani actually still exists.

My boobs are starting to resemble a good looking boob job however. Pert, I’ll say. No longer droopy, empty, retired breastfeeders. Little Vick seems to have a re-renewed interest in them, so I suspect they’re starting to smell…delicious! To dash any confidence my boobs may have given me, Mr Vick has informed me that I have
developed my pregnancy arse. He finds it womanly and attractive. I’m not sure I feel so friendly towards it. It’s true, it’s definitely widened out and resembling my mothers spread. I had noticed how suddenly teeny weeny my bikini briefs were feeling. Lots
of bulges spilling out all over the place and an unacceptable muffin top had taken hold. One word of advice: buy bigger, Bridget Jones sized panties and all problems solved. I can go back to living in pregnancy arse denial. I’m still fitting into my skinny leg jeans (just) which I’ll take as a win.

The knocked up foodie: I eat anything good and it’s ALL good. I do so wanna be a craving pregnant lunatic and send Mr Vick speedily to the supermarket for some obscure thing which I must have in 1 minute flat or his balls will be busted, but I’m just so boringly reasonable. I’ll keep waiting for a crazy crave moment I guess. Although,
did I mention ham is pretty good?!

The babe: Baby Vick has been showing ballet tendencies since about 13 or 14 weeks but this week I started to feel little baby hiccups! Joy!

Sex prediction: Little Vick has always said he will have be having a sister and I like to believe in a child’s sixth sense thingy. A girl would more than suit me (like really, I would be ecstatic… actually, I’m praying for a girl) and Mr Vick has predicted it will be so. Might be more hope talking than psychic ability however.

Favourite Knocked Up Moment: When contemplating names for Baby Vick, Little Vick offered up “Shrek“. Some other thoughts on the matter from him have been Donkey, David (for a girl) and Tractor. Pretty out there yes?

A knocked up belly shot:

Actually taken at 18 weeks when I was having a 60′s try hard moment

The Knocked Up Files: So Long 1st Trimester!

Posted on December 6, 2012 by Vicki

So, here’s the post I’ve been owing for a week or two. The pregnancy post. The knocked up files. The first trimester wrap up. Yep, here we are.

Little Vick was a BIG whoopsy baby for sure, but baby # 2 (yet to decide on it’s blogging title) was the opposite so already it’s been a very different Mummy-to-be experience. Instead of having a spinning head saying holy feckin’ moley, is that possible? What the fruit loops is about to happen to my life now? it was more like: *pat on the back* nice one, the job is done. Let’s get back on with things. Don’t get me wrong, we were/are very pleased but there has been a whole lot less mind blowing going on about it. It’s been much more chillaxed this time round and I certainly don’t think that is a bad thing.

Can I just say this whole planning a baby thing is a little over rated. I was a pee-on-a-stick-aholic! It seriously drove me bat shite crazy! I kid you not, I took 5 tests before I even missed my period! I know, I know… that’s an expensive hobby isn’t it? I become some obsessive pregnant wanna be but I was fairly certain I was indeed knocked up and I was just wanting confirmation of my self diagnosed state. That did come when I managed to hold off until my period was late. 1 day at least. I took a test and still only sore one line appear (negative). Perplexed, I was about to discard test no. 6 only for a 2nd, faint, pink line to catch my eye in the nick of time. At that moment I was relieved to find I was not having hypochondriac tendencies or to be suffering some phantom pregnancy in my head. I knew, I knew.

So why was I so certain about my knocked up state? I always say a woman knows her body. I know mine. She’s always been good to me. Never given me too much trouble so I know when something is different and yes, when you’re knocked up there’s certainly something different. Whilst with Little Vick I was having too much unsuspecting fun to really notice a lot of the early stages changes (kill-me sore boobs was the eventual giveaway), I was on it this time round, like a hard core Bond like spy. I was looking for any little sign and researching anything slightly suss. The first giveaway was this… a week after conception I just burst into tears. No particular reason but I felt very emotional over something minuscule (can’t even recall what). At that point I told Mr Vick, I’m pregnant for sure. He laughed. 2nd giveaway was the two weeks after conception when my hormones would have been really topsy turvy, Little Vick was the most trickiest little monkey he’s ever managed to be. He was, as my Mother would say, putting a real song and dance on. Most uncharacteristic for the usual cool as a cucumber Little Vick. I said to Mr Vick, he knows. It’s that weird 6th sense thing that kids seems to have….and cats. Mr Vick considered this. The third and final symptom which occurred preciously 8 days post coital was I suffered from unexplained cramping for 48 hours in what would be the middle of my cycle. This is not the norm for me. My suss radar was on high alert. I googled it (what else would I do?) and discovered this could be the zygote nesting into my uterus which normally occurs about day 8. Well, well… how about that? I told Mr Vick, I knew I was pregnant. He swore. He agreed, I must be pregnant.

He swore, ya see, cos it only took one shot. Even I was a little surprised. Once? Really? Again? I better be careful. I am clearly a walking fertility machine which when I think about all the people who try desperately and can’t fall pregnant I am completely grateful. I am also grateful that I am not an Irish Catholic, that the contraceptive pill is in existence and vasectomy’s have been invented.

So I’m knocked up. Let the hormone games begin! Although for the most part physically I have the chuck Gods on my side. I don’t get morning sickness. Zilch. Diddly-squat. Not in either pregnancies. I obviously gave my bout of it to poor Kate Middleton. I didn’t even get sore boobs this time. I have been waiting for them, but I got nothin’. I figure I was only breastfeeding 6 months ago so they’re clearly still broken in and ready to roll. My only complaint has been the fatigue. Oh the big weary. The weary which has induced Nanna like tendencies and a murderous temper. Mr Vick is lucky to have survived the first trimester alive. My tolerance and reasonability levels have been nada. I’ve been a real spoil sport I won’t lie. But I’m becoming a nicer person the further I get away from that first trimester which we’re all happy about here in this household.

To my surprise, I have also had days where I have just woken up feeling nothing but blue. This isn’t my usual style so I feel uncomfortable in such a state. I’ve had some days of moping about unable to really successfully do anything. Now as a do-er this inability only makes me be hard and awful to myself which becomes just one big mind f*%k. Karma for not getting morning sickness do you think?

And how about all this fatness?!?!?! Seriously. I look at least 23 weeks pregnant. I am a little embarrassed, although I have been reassured by those who have been here before that it’s all very norm for a second pregnancy to show earlier. I was so noticeably pregnant however at 8 weeks my sister & sister in law guessed! Blimey! My fat tops obviously wern’t up to scratch! I was begging for 12 weeks to hurry up so I could just let all the baby fat hang out. My mother, the realist that she is, can always be relied upon for a sobering comment. She informed me that I shouldn’t even be showing yet in my first trimester. Why do mothers have to be so real? That was not helpful for inner preggie goddess ego.

So, that basically brings you up to speed a bit. I didn’t like keeping secrets from you all for like 7 weeks! I wanted to share, big time.

So, here is my little Knocked Up wrap up:

Weeks: 13 (although 14 tomorrow)

Feeling: Digestive system working at the pace of an old tortoise. Easy to over eat and feel like a floating balloon who needs popping. Also, happy to be waving goodbye to spoil sport fatigue and Mrs Grumpy-pants.

Physical changes: Belly is getting harder up high. A sign my physical state is not just because I have been indulging on Ferroro Rochers too much.

Food of the moment: I’m a crazy foodie any old time but it’s true I don’t have insistent, nagging cravings that I have to give into (much to my disappointment) although sometimes I have liked the idea of some interesting combinations like apricots & chocolate milk. Also have loved Ginger Ale & burgers. Alcohol is also high on the wish list.

Sex prediction: Girl. All 3 of us are convinced this one is a girl. It had better be a girl. However we have already decided on a boys name… that isn’t a sign is it?

Baby observations: I suspect I felt some little baby dancing… seriously! At 13 weeks?!?! I’m still skeptical but I’m fairly sure it wasn’t gas! Whilst with Little Vick it took until 17 weeks to noticeably feel anything I am very suspicious this baby is a budding ballerina!

Belly shot: It’s true. I haven’t been taking them. Either my hair is looking like it hasn’t been brushed for six months or I’m living in my trackies and I don’t think I’m being a top advocate for pregnancy beauty, so I have been avoiding it. I will get on it, promise. For now you can enjoy this little teddy bear picture taken at the 9 week scan :)

Knocked Up and Abroad!

The Musings and Rambles of a Travelling Pregnant Woman Now Turned Mum

Tag Archives: Knocked Up