fun while it lasted
So much for my heave-free pregnancy record. At 1.30 this morning, after a couple of hours attempting to get to sleep and trying to find a comfortable position, I finally succumbed to the Vom Monster. It's unlikely to be food poisoning or a stomach bug (thankfully) because it didn't last all night, so Paul and I think it's simply down to overeating that evening. Paul made one of his famous roast dinners, which I scarfed down greedily. Being a bit too enthusiastic about my recently acquired ability to get more food in my stomach, I had that fateful second helping. Paul did remind me that when I ate a full plate last Sunday of his roast lamb dinner, I wasn't feeling too stellar afterwards, but I was certain I'd be fine now that the bump seems to have dropped a bit and I'd been feeling much hungrier lately. That's the last time I listen to my stomach, I tell you.
So this is the second time I've scared myself and Paul at 1.30 in the morning, which leads me to believe that I'll probably go into labour at 1.30 in the morning. Although I realise that getting sick to your stomach is nothing to get alarmed about, it was the fact that I suddenly disappeared and Paul heard strange noises coming from the loo. I was worried because the horrible cramps and general feeling of ickyness before I got sick had me partially convinced that I was going into labour. I know, I know - I never claimed to be sane at 1.30 in the morning. I wonder if all pregnant women go through this phase in the last trimester? Am I going to keep thinking that I'm going into labour for the next 9 weeks? It doesn't help that I bought things for my maternity bag yesterday, so the superstitious side of me thinks that will induce labour. Oh and maternity bag, my arse. Who can fit everything they and the baby will need into a bag? I'll need a suitcase just for the nappies, maternity pads, cotton wool, and Pip's sleepsuits.
Anyway, so here I sit with my mug of tea and dry toast. We came to the conclusion that small meals often is the way to go, which means goodbye gigantic Christmas lunch, hello grazing over the course of a day. Moo.