It's Raining it's Pouring... the Preggers Woman is Snoring!

It's almost boring how textbook my pregnancy has gone so far... to be honest, I'm hard pressed to find anything to bitch complain about! This last weekend marked my arrival into the final trimester, and if the next 12 weeks are like the first 28, I'm pretty much home and hosed!

Almost.

On Saturday morning, I woke up after a blissful night of sleep and turned to my husband. He was blinking groggily into the sunlight, moaning that it couldn't possibly be morning already. He'd had the most dreadful night of sleep, he said. He'd slept most of the night on the couch. Freezing cold, because he couldn't find any blankets (um, did you try the linen cupboard?!).

But why, I asked?

Because.... his otherwise perfect wife had been apparently been snoring. All night, apparently. So noisily that I had forced him from the warm doona onto the cold lounge. He sounded put out.

hmmmppph. I don't snore, as a rule. The last time I snored with regularity - so noisily in fact, that it woke MYSELF up... was when heavily pregnant with Fern.

So, my loving response to Dan? Suck it up!

There's only another 12 weeks to go... until then, I'm going to snore and shift noisily from side to side and steal every corner of the doona and get up to use the loo 20 times as my God given pregnancy rite-of-passage!

Here's me, @ 28 weeks. With a slightly dodgy expression on my face. Um, I'm going for a 'minimalist' bump, this time:


What joyful, unexpected, and in any other circumstance, unsociable - trait did/ do you embrace whilst pregnant?

The Badoo is two


My little one is two today and she's cheeky, mischievous, loving and mostly reasonable. She's come a long way.

Pregnant, she was breech and 'stuck'. Constant worry gnawing away and extra ultrasounds to confirm that she was still okay in there. It was so uncomfortable with her enormous head (and it turned out that head was actually pretty large) stuck in my diaphragm 24/7.

Planned CS delivery. The worst possible way to have a baby, if you ask me. And I've done them all. Maxi-Taxi: 40 hour labour, 30 without pain relief (I pity tha fool), epidural (sweet lord, the life), emergency CS. Cappers: 8 hour labour with epidural (must have had, oh, 2 contractions this time around), 'natural' delivery. And The Badoo. Planned, clinical, mean. She came out looking like a large grey slug.

The Badoo wouldn't breastfeed. Third baby in and I'm learning about sterilisation. I sobbed my failure to our kindly old Paediatrician. "She's probably French," he said firmly. "None of those French babies breastfeed and so far the French have done pretty well."

At 10 weeks, she still hadn't smiled much. Back to the Paediatrican. "Has she smiled at all," he asked. "Yes? Well, I'm sorry, it's personality, not developmental. She's grumpy."

He was right. From birth to 18 months she smiled about 1% of the time and whinged, groaned, sobbed, growled, screamed, screeched, whined and stared darkly the other 99%. Then, like a beam of light piercing a storm cloud, she suddenly found her smile. And she's been smiling (and whinging, groaning, sobbing, growling, etc) for 6 whole months now. Oh my, she's a demanding, wriggly little handful, but we wouldn't have her any other way.

You made it, Badoo. You're a whole two!
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