We’ve started decorating our nursery. We need a cot and a bassinet, then it’s all done aside from the wall decals and pictures I want to put on the wall. I’ve been doing a bit too much around the house lately, like putting together furniture, moving it around from room to room and cleaning in amounts that are freakish for me. My “nesting” instincts seem to have kicked in (much to my mum’s pleasure, I’m sure, since she thought I’d be a slob for the rest of my life) but it couldn’t have happened at a more inconvenient time given that I’ve acquired a lovely new searing pain in my lower spine. I’m trying to wait it out til I see the obstetrician next week before I give an osteopathy clinic a call. At the moment it’s pretty bloody painful; standing from a seated position takes me about 60 seconds longer than usual since every millimeter of movement feels like a knife stabbing me in the top of my butt. Walking around results in the sensation that my pelvis is about to snap away from my spine. Yet still I cannot resist the urge to clean. Then I hobble around like an old lady for the remainder of the day.
I’m also trying to keep the house in a decent state for Daniel’s sake. He’s been put on a cocktail of drugs to treat his Pericarditis and help ease the gastrointestinal problems that some of those drugs might cause him (he has Coeliac disease). He’s now back at work after his work-related injury, which is really the last place he should be but alas he has no sick leave left. In their usual charming fashion, work sent him out a letter telling him that he’s had too many absenses this year and that for the remainder of the year he must provide medical certification for any further absenses. I’m at the end of my tether with that place. I just feel so awful for him having to work for them (not only in his current state of ill health, but in general)…I want to make sure that when he gets home and while I’m on parental leave, the place is clean and there’s absolutely nothing that he needs to worry about doing. Oh gosh and I promised myself I’d never be a man’s housewife. Ah, he’s worth it.
Oh, it’s my 21st birthday in 14 days (on the 18th). I fear that I am becoming a bit of an old duck because all I care about receiving is good food and household items. I know that my adolescence is long gone!
I’ve been particularly nasty, temperamental and emotional over the past two weeks. Hormones, or something is my excuse. I know this is shallow and I know it’s hard for less self-centered/vain people to understand, but I’m growing increasingly fearful and upset about losing my pre-pregnancy body. I keep exploding at Daniel about how his offspring is maiming my body so he damn well better be grateful. I guess coping with physical changes is not something I gave much thought to until now. I was never able to feel confident with my body before pregnancy and now it’s only going downhill from there (eg. don’t ask me how the nipples on A-cup boobies can point south, but apparently they can). Being around other pregnant ladies and seeing what pregnancy has done to their bodies has freaked me the fuck out. I feel like a damn eel sometimes because I slather myself with that much bloody Bio-Oil. I don’t know where I’m going with this. I guess it’s just one of those things that will be dealt with as time goes by. I’ve got a “Fitness in Pregnancy” session as part of our parental education classes next week, it’s either going to lift my spirits or freak me out even more.
K. I really need something to eat. I love food right now. So much.
