Week 30

Dear baby in my belly

You've been growing for 30 weeks now and while I've loved (ok, exaggeration) having you stay and use my ribs as a xylophone with your feet, I really can't wait for you to come out in 7 (or so) weeks. I'm excited to meet you, of course I am, but I'm also excited to have a bladder that doesn't get beaten the shit out of every time you move.

Your head is down and I'm pretty sure that at some point when I take a shower or do a wee, I'm going to see an arm pop out and give me a little wave. That's how much pressure I'm feeling down there right now, keep up the good work!

You're growing well although you're not huge like people keep telling me, you're roughly the size of a baby a week younger than you and that's ok. Especially if I decide that you're coming out down there and not through your sisters exit. But I guess you have time to grow quite a lot bigger and end up hurting me pretty bad. Grow, just don't... You know... Get too big. 

My boobs are getting ready for you, my chest resembles a road map even more so than it did with your sister. It looks like she's drawn on my chest with a felt tip pen, I've taken a picture to show you when you're older. You can apologise then.

You have a ton of clothes waiting to be worn, blankets to be snuggled in, a shit ton of knitwear too. An autumn baby! You lucky little thing. All the best babies are born in the autumn (AHEM) although don't tell your sister I said that. Speaking of autumn, when you hop over to the real world I'll almost be thirty. I'll be all saggy and have leaky boobs and flappy skin but I'll have my two girls and there's not much more I could ask for. Apart from a giant cake, lots of wine and some sparkly presents because I'll still be turning thirty and you won't be stealing my thunder kiddo, OH NO.

I've moaned a lot about this pregnancy but only because it's a big old slog. I'm grateful that you're in there all safe and well, kicking the granny out of me all night long. But don't you worry sunshine, you and your sister will pay in the form of sleep deprivation ten years down the line when your father and I decide it will be fun to get you up at 6am on the weekend for hikes in the rain. 

Keep on doing your thing, although perhaps limit it a little at nighttime so I can get SOME sleep in preparation for your arrival. And remember, don't get TOO big. And if you get suddenly jolted out of your day sleep because your big sister is singing to you... You'd better get used to that shit. And for god sake whatever you do, never tell her she can't sing.

Peace out,
Mama xo

No comments:

Post a Comment