Turns out I'm not so good at blogging while pregnant.
I'm at 17 weeks now (nearly 18) and have had every malady, one after another, for what feels like the last 4 months.
It started with the crucifying morning sickness (all day sickness), tailed by never ending exhaustion for weeks. When I wasn't desperately seeking out which food I could actually eat without wanting to throw it back up again, I was trying not to fall asleep while being asked to 'pway, mummy! Pweeeze pway wif me!'
Then came a horrid cold which made me feel awful, right on top of the sickness bug which both kids had been off school and nursery with (there's nothing worse than looking after sick kids while feeling sub-human). They got better and then I got floored. Excellent.
Cue a rough xmas season, which was actually quite nice, but again, still plagued with morning sickness and food aversions, a really awesome stomach bug which nearly destroyed me and finally, I am at the moment working my way through what started as a lovely fuzzy headcold, which has fabulously moved down into my chest, leaving me with the inability to take any kind of deep breath without hacking up a lung and waking up every morning with the world's most awesome dehydration/sinus headaches.
It's been a jolly old time.
In between of course, I've been spending my time freaking about the potential harm this could all be doing not to me (oh no) but to the small, growing foetus inside of me. The internet is not a great place to go to when you are looking for answers. Chances are, that worst case scenario in your head, if you Google hard enough, will crop up and you will convince yourself that the worst has happened...oooh...99% of the time. And I am nothing if not a researcher.
Over the last 14 weeks or so I've internet diagnosed myself with LOTS of things. I should really learn to just walk away from Google...
It's been an okay time apart from that. I feel really happy (if a bit hesitant about it all - I'm the world's best worrier and will worry until the baby is at least 42) and finally, it seems that all of our shit is coming together.
Dave has a nice new job, the kids are happy and healthy, and we are finally looking for a forever home of our own.
So when I'm hacking up more phlegm, trying my best not to freak out over whether that might be the baby moving or not, or struggling against yet another tide of exhaustion, I'm trying to stay in my happy vision of opening the door on my own back garden, letting the boys out to play while I shoogle a wee baby.
Oh please, let that happen!
Everything crossed. And completely no Googling!
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