First of all, thank you so much for your lovely, kind words on my last post. I hope it doesn't sound too cheesy to say this, but each one of your comments meant so much to me and really did go such a long way to helping me feel better. I'm trying to write back to everyone properly to say thank you for your thoughts and condolences, so if I haven't got to you yet, rest assured that I will.
Each week, I try to take my pregnancy photo in front of something that indicates what's going on in my life at the time—whether it's a place I happened to have traveled to or the building site that is currently my backyard—and so it seemed a no-brainer, this week, to take it in front of the big blown-up photo of Omi I have in my home office, which is shortly to become Hamish's room, as soon as I can work up the energy to translate my lofty Pinterest pinning into something vaguely achievable in the next three months. (Eh, he can sleep in a desk drawer, right?) I'm not doing a huge amount to make the transition from office to nursery—sticking with the navy walls, using the white sleeper sofa in lieu of a glider—but the one thing I do know I want to keep is that giant picture of her up there, so that Hamish can grow up with his great-grandmother watching over him. Well, and also because I kind of nailed it to the wall and don't quite know how to get it down.
If I look tired in this picture—and I do, plus the light's a little weird in there, which ain't doing anybody any favors—it's because I've got a new hobby, and this hobby is waking up six times a night. This is everso slightly different from my hobby at 19 weeks, which was waking up five times a night, but let me tell you, even that one extra time makes a huge difference to one's energy and productivity the next day. I try to tell myself it's just my very own version of a Couch to 5K programme, in that I'm slowly and steadily readying myself for the inevitable sleep deprivation that comes with new parenthood, but basically it's just because my bladder is the size of a quail's egg and I can't seem to sleep more than an hour and a half without needing to empty it.
I have, in general, really enjoyed being pregnant so far—low-level nausea of the first fifteen weeks notwithstanding—but the peeing thing is just....it's too much. I need to know where my nearest bathroom is at all times—I just moved to a new building at work, where it is pretty darn far, and today I caught myself weighing up the logistics of renting my own private PortaPotty—and, while I would like very much to see that new Ryan Gosling movie, The Place Beyond The Pines, I have decided there is absolutely no way in hell I can go to the movies anymore because that is, like, two hours I would have to sit still without getting up to excuse myself, which, at 26 weeks pregnant, just cannot be done. I'll wait for it on DVD.
Apart from my fractured sleep patterns, my pregnancy seems to be ticking on fairly routinely so far, and I'm still feeling pretty good. The baby is kicking like crazy these days, and sometimes right before we go to sleep, Sean will lean over in bed and put his hand on my stomach and we'll just lie there together while our sweet boy wriggles and squirms and I'll say "Did you feel it? Did you feel that one?" and Sean will say "yep" and then we'll turn to each other and smile in the dark. I know it's probably going to get harder soon—that I'll get bigger and more tired and probably a little more anxious about what's to come—but for now, right now, I'm enjoying exactly where we are.