9 weeks and 2 days….or…”OMG what have we done?”
This is my fifth pregnancy.
You’d think I’d have a “been there, done this” type of attitude huh? Funnily enough, I don’t. I think maybe I’m more nervous and excited this time than I was with my first. Weird? Not really, if you think about it. My youngest is six, and this is the largest gap between babies I’ve had so far. I’m also six years older and a scary number of kilograms heavier than I was when the youngest member of the Kipfer tribe made her appearance, so naturally there are some concerns all focused around, “will the baby be OK?” That is also my paranoia speaking. I’m sure bub will be fine, the ultrasound two weeks ago said that everything looked fine, and there’s no point in working myself up over it.
Emotionally, I am exhausted. This baby, although very much wanted, was not “planned” as such. The reality that we need a new car, lots of baby stuff (stuff we’d had but gotten rid of five years ago) and quite possibly a new house, are prospects that are somewhat scary. Scratch that. Terrifying. However, we have been through worse and will no doubt make it through this, a little worse off financially, but hey…it’s only money, right? Of course, right.
So, I’m obsessing over cash flow (or lack thereof), worried that bub won’t be “normal” and a little more than terrified of how the heck I’m going to juggle 5 kids, a husband and a full time job. Add to that the writing and the jewellery making, and I’m afraid my life is going to crash down around me like a house of cards.
Physically…how am I doing? Oh don’t ask. I have the chest of a Playboy bunny, the skin of a 12 year old (yes the hormones are at it again!) and the waistline of an ever increasing and expanding blob. Yuck! No “baby bump” as yet, just a whole lot of water retention, gas and bloating. Charming. On the upside, I’m not throwing up. I also don’t feel sick 24 hours a day anymore although there are certain smells and foods that will do it to me every single time. Unfortunately for hubby, this means that he’s back to being the one handling ALL cooking (not that this is much of a change; he’s been the family chef forever) as the mere sight of raw meat sends me straight for the bathroom. That’s not to say I can’t eat it when it’s cooked. I can, and quite easily too, I might add.
That’s the other thing. I’m starving. ALL THE TIME. It never goes away. I can eat a huge meal and 20 minutes later, I’m looking for seconds. My hubby refers to this as my “hobbit stage.” I’m waiting for him to start serving me “second breakfast” every morning.
I’ve been incredibly slack in booking antenatal appointments too. This, I suspect, is simply because this is pregnancy number 5. I know what’s coming. I don’t wish to be poked and prodded, and I especially don’t want to be weighed. Ever.
That said, I do know that good antenatal care is crucial and I do intend to get it. By the time I write my next diary entry, I will have organised my appointment with the hospital antenatal team and will hopefully have something to update you with.