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
