I paused before I settled down to write this post in order to throw two Rennie tablets into my mouth. That, you see, pretty much summarises how this week has been – an unpleasant rollercoaster of heartburn infused with a regular, sometimes furiously urgent devouring of chalk antacids.
Names haven’t been discussed at all this week. I am wondering when the need to do so will eventually kick in, if at all. Traditional names are all the rage in this house and I have a couple in mind which I do love for girls. This time it’s thinking of boys names which is the problem.
We had our anomaly scan last Thursday, which incidentally was also my birthday. Baby was lying transverse and was not in the mood to co-operate in the slightest. I, feeling the repercussions of a restless night, once reassured that all was well, fought to keep my eyes open.
‘Novelty wearing off?’ Mike asked.
My excuse was that there is something about darkened rooms and a bed that just makes me want to sleep, but I suppose that’s what they are generally for, after all.
I soon perked up when the 4d switch was flicked on to reveal little one reluctant to reveal itself. No, not equipment-wise as we’re once again saving the surprise of whether it is a boy or girl for the delivery room. Baby just didn’t want to show its face…
The consultant carried on scanning and measuring, occasionally flipping back and forth to 4d. During these brief interludes Mike and I would try to work out who the baby looked like.
When we had our sixth we realised that everyone stopped comparing a new baby to either parent, picking out facial features from Mum or Dad, and started comparing with siblings instead. General opinion so far is that Baby 13 resembles Paddy and therefore must be a boy. On the other hand Isobel also has moments where she looks like Paddy, so it could possibly be a girl.
The weight gain I have experienced in the last 22 weeks has been confirmed. Baby is growing nicely. However, according to the scan Baby weighs exactly a pound. This leaves a slight imbalance between Baby 13’s weight estimation and the bathroom scales’ unfavourable bulletin. I am therefore consoling myself with the theory that my bathroom scales must be broken and are in dire need of replacing.