9 May
5

Seven months

Time is like a steam train right now…  (or maybe galloping horses – the midwife tells us that a baby steam train heartbeat is a boy and a baby galloping horses heartbeat is a girl).

I look back at that six month baby bump, which seemed so large there and then, and now in just one short month it’s transformed into this.  It’s almost incomprehensible but as time races on I become more and more in awe of what our bodies are able to achieve all by themselves.  So I’ve gained 16lb and my pelvis wakes me up from sleep, many, many times, but I feel good.  I see and feel this tiny little baby partying in my belly at all times of the day and the night and I know that it’s there and it’s ours and one day it’s going to be here, on the outside in the big world and that just fills me with love for what we’ve made.  I eat healthily when I can and by the time dinner rolls around honestly not much more will fit in…  someone is hogging all the space…  so I top up with smoothies to get the vitamins in.  I walk slower than most 86 year olds and have to stop for regular breaks on the hubzy seat during our beach walks (he sits with me, right behind, so I can lean against him and he gets up first to haul me back to my feet because my core strength, on a scale of 1 to 10, is now approximately minus 2.  On the other hand I complete reps of pelvic floor exercises like an olympic athlete, anywhere and everywhere, with a determination that only those who’ve been pregnant (i.e. sneezed and peed a little) can comprehend.  I spent so many months not really getting into ‘it’, not melting at teeny baby booties and not experiencing any urges to prepare and then 7 months happened and a baby shower at the day job induced tears with an impossibly small and beautiful two piece knitted suit and the realisation that we are going to have a tiny little human to put in there…  and the seal was broken and the pram was on the way and the woven bassinet was being shipped from Ghana and the drawers were being arranged into piles of onesies and bandana bibs and mittens so impossibly small and we have a car seat in our home, for an actual baby, how practical!  And we signed up for a tour of the hospital where we will welcome baby G to the world and found ourselves unexpectedly thrown straight into antenatal class no. 3, ‘Labour and Birth’, which was utterly terrifying – the husband said if they taught that class in high school he suspected the rate of teen pregnancy, and population in general, may drop dramatically.  And we got overwhelmed by a sense of urgency (actually it was me, all me, big sobbing tears on the bed me) to go on holiday one last time just the two of us and the midwife was visited and the babymoon booked at 3pm on Thursday, flying at 7am on Friday, and it was utterly blissful to have that time, to truly relax and take stock of things and feel so lucky and full of love and just ready.

Posted in finds | 5 Comments, go on leave another

5 Comments

  1. Mica Posted 9 May at 12:31 pm

    Beautiful photo! I did one of these near the end of my pregnancies, it’s such a special time to look back on.

    Although you’re right it’s a rollercoaster of emotion! I’m glad everything’s getting organised for you and you enjoyed your time away 🙂

  2. Sara Posted 9 May at 1:26 pm

    Lovely post Wendy, its such a special time, enjoy every second.
    You look amazing. can’t wait to see your new arrival. And yes i got all teary reading your post. xx

  3. Gaylesbury Posted 9 May at 5:40 pm

    Beautiful pictures and beautiful words x I’m still so excited for you both , and greeting reading this! X

    • Gaylesbury Posted 9 May at 5:41 pm

      P.S. ….possibly your longest ever sentence?!

  4. Anastasia Posted 11 May at 10:59 pm

    What a sweet post! I am amazed by how fit you look Wendy, seriously that’s how I’d like to look if and when I ever get pregnant! Pregnant woman body goals!
    Also, what Scott is is doing, the hubzy chair thing, is SO cute 🙂

    I hope you are doing well xx

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Fashion, travel and life with Mr K and Tux (they're the furry ones). By Wendy H Gilmour.

Contact: thankfifi@gmail.com

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