21 weeks pregnant and I’m carrying around a pomegranate! I don’t know what a pomegranate looks like, apart from juiced in a glass, so I will refrain from passing comment on that one.
This will forever be remembered as the week I blew my nose and black lumps came out. No, I hadn’t recently been on the Northern line. No, it wasn’t, as suspected, parts of my (baby) brain. It was lumps of dried blood.
I had actually never, ever had a nosebleed. Not once in my life. As a child I used to envy those who had them, because they got fussed over, and, well, it’s so DRAMATIC isn’t it? Having blood pour out of your nostrils. Roll on 30ish years and I realise it’s not dramatic at all, but rather feels like you’re drowning in your own breath.
As a side effect of pregnancy, your progesterone levels mean that you have much more blood in your system than normal, which is why you are more prone to nosebleeds and bleeding gums etc. Oh, and haemorrhoids, but luckily I seem to have escaped them thus far (sorry, TMI). But the black lumps of dried blood was definitely a ‘WTF is happening to me!’ moment. Luckily it was a one-off, but it’s not something I’m going to forget in a hurry.
There have been a couple of other things on my mind this week:
1) My mind.
My mind has been on my mind because my mind is not working properly. I’ve been fuzzy-headed for about a month now, but this was the week things really started to go downhill. Here’s a few of things I’ve done thus far:
Left the gas on. For three hours.
Chased clients for invoices they’ve already paid (CRINGE).
Turned up to the dentist a week early.
Not locked the front door.
Put the washing machine on without putting any detergent in it.
Left the fridge door open – about six times and counting so far.
Forgotten half the things I wanted to add to this list.
Baby brain is REAL. I regularly now forget what I’m talking about in the middle of a sentence, and if I have an idea and don’t write it down on my iPhone in the milliseconds afterwards, it’s gone forever. My vocabulary has shrunk to that of a six year old. It’s actually horrible feeling this out of control, and having this much trouble focusing on things, especially when work is so busy at the moment. As a control freak, I am not enjoying not being able to depend on myself.
O has also been using it as an excuse to tell me he’s told me things when I KNOW he hasn’t. Which makes the whole thing even more annoying.
2) My bump (or lack thereof)
I know a lot of pregnant women complain about this, especially first timers, but I really don’t have much of a bump at all. I have had countless people tell me with a tut that ‘you just look like I do normally’ when I’ve stuck my tummy out and exclaimed how big I feel and I suppose I should be grateful. But it does make you worry. Is the baby growing OK? Will it turn out to be a midget (unlikely given its father)?
Every morning I do a bump check (which is a bad idea because in the mornings it’s practically non-existent) and every morning I think I haven’t really changed much at all. The only thing reassuring me is that I have a really long torso (and bottom, my nickname at school: ‘Ducky Long Bum’, forever unkind and remembered, Notre Dame girls) and so the baby must have lots of space in there which is why my bump is more spread out. I don’t really want to look hugely pregnant yet as I’m sure it’s very uncomfortable, but it’s this damn ambiguous stage at the moment that I don’t like – put a coat on me and I don’t look pregnant at all, in a top I just look like I’ve eaten too many pies…
3) The baby kicked me!
You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve saved the non-whinging part till last. I’ve been feeling squirming movements for a few weeks now, but only when I have been lying on my stomach. This was different. It was an actual kick. I was sitting with my legs up on the sofa reading and I felt this very definite little jab from inside – like someone flicking you with their thumb and middle finger. And instead of being creepy or weird, it was SUCH a lovely feeling that I actually squealed and grinned for about an hour afterwards.
It’s definitely made the whole thing feel more real, and now whenever I feel the baby fluttering around I find myself talking to it, a bit like I talk to the cat when he shouts at me. Alas he/she has yet to kick again. I wait in hope and eager anticipation…