It’s a BOY!

Time is winging its way forward and the bump is growing daily.  We had our final ultrasound and apparently IT’S A BOY!!

The baby was obviously determined that there be no more confusion about his sexual identity – He had both his feet and hands in front of his face (yoga baby?) so there was an uninterrupted view of his genitalia.  I made her go back and check three times and each time she said ‘that’s a scrotum, there’s the penis’.  I have been in shock ever since!
I wandered around Port Macquarie in a daze all day muttering ‘this changes EVERYTHING’.  Ged was sympathetic, knowing I had my heart set on little Harmony.  But finally the boy in him broke through the sensitive, caring, husband – ‘he’s well built, anyway’ – TYPICAL!!
Ged is happy too because he knows that he is now more likely to get his two.  I am still going to want my precious little angel girl so whereas, before, I was happy to stop at one, now I will pull out all the stops to land my Harmony . . . more acupuncture methinks!
(oh my god, you mean I have to go through this again??!!)  Being pregnant is quite the most bizarre experience.  I’m sure it’s not natural!  First the overwhelming tiredness, then the nausea, then the constant stretching pain as the previously taught muscles of your abdomen are lengthened and loosened, the endless weeing on the hour, every hour all night, the heartburn, the hunger, the water retention, the emotional rollercoaster . . . Someone tell me, please, why do your bum and legs have to get bigger too?
There seems to have been an extraordinary level of interest in the burgeoning size of my bust as people who pitied my petite appendages imagined that Ged and I must be revelling in my new found frontal regalia.  Actually, I have always loved my little fried eggs no matter what anyone else said or thought, and luckily so has Ged.  I got another huge shock when I finally went to be fitted for a new bra – from 32A to 12C in less than ten minutes and $100 – that’s a pretty cheap boob job!!

Prone over Porcelain and Snoozing my life Away

Now I know that Little Miss has said that the farm is to be organic but we have a weed problem that is out of control and several steep banks where even the death defying George daren’t take his tractor, so there is only one thing for it – Grazon.
Of course I can’t do any spraying (or much of anything since I am so often prone on the sofa snoozing my life away!) so my brave husband-to-be has to go into the chemical fray.  We are both so conscious of the toxic fallout from these quite frankly HORRIBLE chemical soups that we would far rather not expose ourselves, and I made Ged get all the kit to protect himself.  Attractive, isn’t it?!
Little Miss appears to have had a hand in the proceeding from where she watches her potential parents as they endeavour to get her new home finished for her arrival, because not long after Ged commenced Operation Chemical Fallout I heard swearing and stripping in the front yard and found that he had come under enemy fire!  For some reason beyond my comprehension the sprayer I have used faithfully for the past few years turned traitor on its new master and blew a gasket (literally!) causing a fountain of chemical soup to deluge the one part of his body unprotected . . . his eyes.  Poor, poor love was in so much pain so we flushed and flushed and flushed, rang the poisons hotline and then laid him down with a cold flannel over his face to rest them as they recuperated.  Looks like Little Miss is going to get her way after all  . . !
It is very hard to feel enthused about the renovation while I am Little Miss Slumber and I am afraid I am falling behind.  I went to the doctor and we agreed that an ultrasound was essential to correctly date my pregnancy so we booked me in that same afternoon and Ged came to have his first peek of his little princess.  Apparently there’s a very strong heartbeat there and we are six weeks pregnant so we are in for a lot of momentous changes to our lives this  year, culminating in a new arrival at the end of September (they say 25th, I say 22nd) but I have been known to be wrong before . . . . !!
When I told Mummy she said ‘are you feeling sick yet?’ and I said in my most superior and patronising tone ‘I don’t believe in morning sickness, it’s all in the mind’.  Boy, was I wrong about that!  I never knew you could feel so sick and still stand up (although lying down is by far my best position for coping with the unrelenting nausea.  Why do they call it morning sickness  it’s from the moment I move from horizontal to halfway close to vertical in the morning, until the moment I lay my weary head down to sleep at night.  Ugh.  And what is it with the secret society of women who have borne children, that they never initiate their childless sisters into the horrors of hanging over ceramic from dawn to dusk?  I’m amazed that the world is as over-populated as it is – I can’t imagine why you’d willingly go through this more than once (even with the Australian $5,000 baby bonus and exhortations to have ‘one for you, one for Australia’!!)
Ah well, this too shall pass . . . . x