18 Weeks – Emma’s Diary can do one…

WEEK 18 ACCORDING TO EMMA’S DIARY

Enjoy a lovely relaxing bubble bath. Feel baby moving. Get shouted at by husband’s mum because you haven’t written a comprehensive colour-coded birth plan yet.

 

WEEK 18 ACCORDING TO ME

Don’t have a bath. Might be getting one in new house, but not holding my breath. Need to actually find a new house first. Oops. Still not sure if I’m feeling baby or just want some chocolate. Got a feeling it’s baby but who knows? My birth plan still says “The midwives can do whatever they want. I’ll have an epidural if I start screaming or hallucinating. I don’t care about the rest of it”, and I’ve lost the piece of paper I scribbled it down on. I still don’t really want to believe that in two weeks time I’ll be approximately halfway through, although I am really looking forward to seeing the baby again at the 20 week scan. I’ll try not to swear this time. I can’t sleep because I’m having nightmares that have woken me up screaming (yay), which means I spend the whole day exhausted. My legs ache, my hips hurt, the base of my back hurts, it’s a struggle to move, I can’t get comfy when I lie down.

 

But no. Don’t mention that, Emma’s Diary. Tell me all about what a lovely relaxing pregnancy Emma’s having, full of bubble baths and trips to Paris. We’ve got our “Babymoon” planned – I only discovered that phrase last week and kind of like it! – which is the weekend before Christmas in Edinburgh, but the way my back is, I’ll be hobbling around the Christmas market on crutches by that point. I really hope I’m exaggerating.

Oh, and another side effect of Mini Spud (one of D’s nicknames for me is Spudlin, and with baby being a sweet potato this week, it only seemed fitting to call him/her Spud) growing is I have a few budding stretch marks. This isn’t fair. I have three types of cocoa butter.That’s not to say I’ve been using it, but still… I own three types of cocoa butter. What difference that makes, I’m not really sure, I just think it’s unfair.

22 more weeks. 22 more weeks. 22 more weeks.

SHIT. Only 22 more weeks.

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