Parenting | Lifestyle | Food | No F--king Idea

156 days until due date

156 days until due date

Happy? Yes.

Exhausted? Yes.

Exhausted? Yep.

Exhausted? YES.


Haven’t slept properly in about a week? A year? Since the beginning of time? What I would give to know how it actually feels to hit one’s REM cycle. I don’t think I ever have in the history of the universe. I have never been a great sleeper; it isn’t so much the GETTING TO SLEEP part that I have trouble with, its the staying asleep part. I hear fucking everything. I can hear my cat licking herself from the kitchen.. four rooms away. I’m not even exaggerating. Ask Pete, he will vouch for it. I am possibly the world’s lightest sleeper. There will be absolutely no need for us to buy baby monitors because apparently my hearing is fucking next level kinda shit.

I have tried taking magnesium. I have tried having a bath before bed. I rarely eat sugar before bed in case it wakes my brain up. I am relaxed and calm, but for whatever reason, my ears are always on stand-by with the volume turned way, way up.

So – keeping in mind that sleep is already an issue, I spent most of the weekend cleaning. I had to do the final clean of my old apartment on the weekend and what we thought was going to be a couple of hours work ended up being almost nine hours of intense, physical awfulness. Pete’s saint of a mother, Louise, and my brother’s girlfriend B came to help me (thank the fucking lord) and it was just the worst. Never again. There were venetian blinds to clean in every room, vacuuming, wiping down of everything ever and at least 65 trips down to the bins (and Pete swore that there, “wasn’t much rubbish at all” – please, that was the most rubbish ever) which includes three flights of stairs and then more stairs up to the street where the bins are.

My body was ruined. Pete was away over the weekend so it was just Louise, B and I – and I just broke.

I thought that for sure, after a huge and very physical day like that that my body and brain (and ears) would shut off so that I could sleep. NUP. Maybe three hours sleep and up before 6am? COOL. I felt really sorry for myself, if I am honest. I was having the biggest whinge to myself because I was beyond exhaustion – and am even more so now – and I need help. I selfishly desired that everyone I have ever known would come over and bring me an assortment of food and desserts and give me a foot rub and a pedicure and an all over body massage and do all of my housework for me. I felt really fucking angry that I wasn’t being pandered to. Irrational, yes, but through the veil of exhaustion that IS my life, it seemed (seems) warranted.

On a far happier and more exciting wonderful note, it turns out that Bubba recognises Pete’s voice. Over the weekend there was a little bit of movement from bub, but not much. Pete came home at around lunchtime on Sunday. As soon as he came and lay down on the lounge with me and started talking, his hand on my belly, bubba turned into some kind of kung-fu fucking master and kicked the hell out of me! It was the first real kicks that I have felt. Up until then, I had been able to feel bubba move and roll around and change positions but this was the first real big, hearty karate kick. All weekend – nothing. Dad gets home and the kid puts on a show! He has clearly already chosen his favourite parent even though I am the one growing him. Every time Pete spoke, bubba responded. It was completely surreal, it was like they were having a conversation. All through the first trimester I was told by multiple women how incredible those first kicks are, each of them telling me that it was a moment that they will never forget. And I understand why. Even though feeling the movements was amazing, feeling a proper kick was completely surreal. There are no words that will ever do it justice.

As far as Father’s Day goes, I think Pete will definitely be remembering his first one. A surprise bunch of presents and a very clear indicator that he is already the world’s greatest dad because apparently our child was awaiting his return home even though mum worked SO hard this weekend but it’s fine because we love Pete more than anything and his mind is obviously already made up that Dad is the superior being.

Since Sunday, whenever Pete comes home he spends about twenty minutes with the bump talking to it and waking bubba up. Up until about five minutes ago, that seemed the only way for me to get any kind of movement. However – I was just sitting at my desk when some little kicks started, I wrestled my hand into my jeans and held it there, and pressing against my palm I felt the little kicks from the outside of my belly for the very first time. My heart started racing and I felt my face and neck flush red. Surreal. Beautiful. Amazing. I still cannot quite fathom what is actually happening within me and to both Pete’s and my life. I feel so blessed that I have a partner going through this and I am just a big fucking sack of happiness today because I am getting kicked and it is fabulous.

I also ordered some dresses online this morning, and that is also fabulous. And I have leftover Singapore noodles for lunch today.

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