just don't measure the circumference
The midwife appointment went well today, and we even got to see a different midwife as mine was away. She was a very nice lady who made the appropriate sympathetic noises when I whined about my endless heartburn (she informed us that they give Ranitidine to women during labour - never found out why, though) and fatigue. She checked my blood test results and I am borderline anaemic. This means more roast beef dinners and greens for me, woohooooooo! At least this explains why I've been so tired lately and she also told us that babies have growth spurts at around 31 weeks, which would also account for my fatigue. It also explains why I've suddenly developed strong cravings for beef and peanut butter (not at the same time, mind you). She said that women usually find that their energy returns at 34-36 weeks, which would be just in time for my maternity leave. I'm thinking that work may be somewhat of a chore this month. Grand.
I was measured with a measuring tape for the first time (my regular midwife must just be an expert at judging by eye) and I am measuring exactly 32cm; perfect for being 32 weeks pregnant. When she first had a feel, Pip was head down with his back to my side and then he squirmed around a bit and his back was to mine. I didn't realise that he still had quite a bit of room to maneuver, which also explains the mystery of why I feel like there's an octopus in there sometimes. I thought he would be settled into one position, but couldn't figure out why I would feel pokes and prods all over my belly, often times concurrently. They won't really pay much attention to his position until around 36 weeks, so he's still got some time to dance about in there.
I have taken a Zantac and am currently enjoying a heartburn-free evening, even after a delicious supper (made with my husband's fair hands) of beef stroganoff, horseradish mash, and peas. Eight weeks doesn't seem so unbearable now.