What a week. We’ve had nose bleeds, torn muscles, exhaustion, diarrhoea. Actually, that’s all me, apart from the diarrhoea bit; although with the swine flu that’s going around it could be a very real possibility. We moved house yesterday, which meant flexing my puny muscles and putting them through more grief than they’ve ever known before. At the end of moving day, I could practically hear my weedy biceps screaming “WHOA!! WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!” before capitulating into two shuddering lumps of stringy flesh.
Anyway, this isn’t about me; it’s about the mrs. She has had the odd bout of sciatica, which is very common around this time during pregnancy. She has also had the odd nose bleed, on account of the increased blood volume. And she is exhausted, on account of the person growing inside her.
She’s also crying, a lot. Whereas before she cried at sitcoms, she now cries at nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have just returned from consoling her as she blubbered in the bath for no reason at all. ‘Theirs is not to reason why, theirs is but to do and die’, as someone once said at some point somewhere in the history of time, maybe after having just cried in the bath.
She’s also freaking a bit that the general public doesn’t realise she’s pregnant and just thinks she’s fat. This is especially concerning for her when she goes out running, because she reckons people will see her and think “Aah, look at that fat person waddling down the street. At least she’s trying to lose weight. Most fatties just eat burgers and wallow in their own filth.”
This has prompted her to wear one of her newly-acquired shirts whilst out jogging; you know the ones, with a whimsical saying on the front, like ‘Does my bump look big in this?’ or something similar. She might as well be wearing a massive flashing neon sign on her back saying “HEY! STOP STARING! I’M PREGNANT, NOT FAT!”. Wow, that’s a lot of capital letters I’ve written in the last few paragraphs. I must have a lot of pent-up anger or something, which will almost certainly not be channelled into sustained DIY. Changing a light bulb is about as far as I go, and even then I need ongoing assistance.
Your baby is about the length of a credit card, moving more now, and a quick bit of research has revealed that it is also smiling and grimacing, although what exactly it has to grimace at I’m not sure. Mind you, if I was swimming in a sac of goo, with a big tube sticking out of my abs, I’d be pulling a bit of a face too. Toenails have formed, and it’s body is covered in a soft downy hair called lanugo which remains until the last few weeks of pregnancy, when the baby eats it (gross). Apparently, your baby uses the umbilical cord as it’s first toy around now, but I’m not sure how. Maybe like a whip, à la Zorro. Who knows?