The whale

I’m now at the stage where everything about me is big: my boobs are spilling out of my clothes; my face is fat; my Jackie Chan honker is back in business; my feet is swollen and resemble puffy sausages; my stomach is obstructing my path.

In short, I look big and I feel monstrous. MEH.

Two seems to be feeling the lack of space too. Instead of cute kicks and buttery flutters, the poor little baby has taken to wriggling. It’s so…odd. I mean, imagine someone nudging you from inside. And the kid is ALL OVER THE PLACE. I can get strange wriggles above my belly button and all the way to my waist on the right. AT THE SAME TIME.

Mmm, maybe Two will be all supermodel-ly with long lanky limbs. LIKE FABULOUSLY GORGEOUS MAMA!

And because the giant uterus requires space, all my innards have been unceremoniously shoved aside. My stomach is probably somewhere up my chest – I wouldn’t know, I can’t really feel it anymore. But what this means is that the horrible nausea that I used to get during the first trimester is saying HELLO AM BACK! Sometimes, I would retch after brushing my teeth. Or after breakfast. According to the good doctor, the stomach is being squashed, which leads to nausea. Wahey.

But it’s all good. This isn’t forever and hey, I’m never going to be pregnant again. So I’m trying my best to enjoy this as much as possible.

Two gets some music time via the Belly Buds almost every night and I go to sleep to the soothing hypnobirthing tracks. The Muji diffuser in my room is puffing out lulling lavender into the air. The night is still (until Aidan wakes up, anyway) and the air-conditioning is humming.

It’s all good.

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