Bump bands. I would say they’re life enhancing. Everything is covered, no more flashing, I feel quite secure and the extra layer is great in this cold. Between that, and the hairband buttonhole extender, I am decent and sanguine.
And so stretchy too! It is such a relief to have clothes that are vaguely comfortable again. And which sort of fit again. Without having to go shopping or get things delivered.
Today’s excitement is a mystery appointment. Could be the consultant OB. Could be the anti-coagulant clinic. Might walk to the hospital. It’s cold, but I have a coat designed for that sort of thing.
1. Largest bra too tight (have bought bra extenders). Really cannot face buying any more bras, even secondhand on eBay. This one has apparently lasted a week before becoming too small. Will have to investigate less cantilevered bras with more room for manoeuvre. Feel like Dolly Parton crossed with Pamela Anderson. But less glamourous.
2. Maternity jeans fall down (tried braces. Loo trips turned into epics of contortion and the braces kept pinging off, which they never did on my skiing trousers). Have bought bump bands, as the hairband trick on the pre-maternity jeans merely results in my flashing the world my underpants unless I’ve managed to find a long enough top. I don’t have many of those… I think said maternity jeans are a size too big (hand-me-down from my SiL). Bit more bump, and they’ll be fine. In the meantime, I may just flash the world…
3. Is it really healthy to eat an entire tub of Dairylea in one sitting? Because I really, really, really want to do that. I have tried drinking half a pint of skimmed milk, and it’s just not quite hitting the spot. I’ve had half the tub. Some of it made it onto toast! And it does have way fewer calories in it than a McDonald’s milkshake. But, then again, most things do.
4. N is in Japan. I had the whole bed to myself, and had one of the better night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. I don’t think this is entirely coincidence. I still had to get up (hello bladder!) but I didn’t wake up as much.
5. Blood thinning injections produce smaller bruises, and do less bleeding, if you stick a can of pop on them afterwards. Then you can drink the pop (apple juice and fizzy water), and that takes the edge off the whole experience. The closer an injection is to your belly button, the more it hurts. Alas, this was the only spot on the correct side that didn’t have a bruise on it. Fortunately, wfh means I can wail and be a total drama llama as much as I like, because no-one will hear.
6. I think I need to go to the loo for the third time this hour. All together now, for the wee-wee song (to the tune of ‘My Darling Clementine’)
Need a wee-wee (x3)
Need a wee.
Need a wee-wee (x3)
Need a wee.
And on that note…
I have just put on a bra which is a 34D, and it is vaguely comfortable (yesterday’s 34C was suddenly too small and everything was squished in. The pain on removal was Not Fun. Usually removing a bra is a blessed relief, right?).
I never really understood why some women have breast augmentation. I understand even less now. This is not comfortable. I was a 30C/32B (depended on brand…there is such variation in these things that one has to be measured). I am beginning to wonder if I will ever wear my pre-pregnancy bras again. So many lovely pretty things – because I didn’t really change size throughout my adult life, so I amassed quite the collection, including some choice items from Rigby and Peller.
I have three bras which fit now. Last week, I had five (thank you TK Maxx and Ebay). I am beginning to have enough stock to open a secondhand bra emporium.
On the plus side, I have finished a scarf and a baby surprise jacket (need to photo the latter), and N helped me wind some rather glorious pure silk yarn for a scarf. I also have a rather lush cardigan kit from Unravel. It has a cunning design which will accommodate a bump (I have one of those too) and I am girding myself to knit a medium rather than a small….
My bust is 5 inches larger than it was at the beginning of this adventure. I have never known my body shape change quite so quickly and, my goodness, it is throughly disconcerting. And not the most comfortable of experiences. It is all to the good, but I don’t have to enjoy buying bras, right?
Never let it be said that romance is dead…. I’m not convinced Rossi was even shaving when he won Donnington back then. He’s so young! So skinny!
In other news, Thing1 has a healthy sounding heart and I’ve asked for a perinatal MH referral as last week was very difficult (this week has been better) and I could feel myself slipping towards a depressed episode. So: let’s try to sort it out now, rather than before anything acute happens and I start having that horrible feeling of not being able to feel my feet properly again (a very reliable symptom of being overly anxious and overwhelmed).
Now is the time to get back to the mindfulness and some knitting. If I can knit, things are generally OK. I have not been knitting enough.
Specifically, that of his trousers. Those dandy high waisters. Oh my.
Last week, I merrily bundled up, squeeeezing into my coat, medium yoga leggings pulled up tight, and got there in one piece, everything in place, no poochiness in the crotch, and reasonably comfy.
This week, I have given in. Those leggings might stay put if I tuck my top into them (sometimes I double top, in hiding bruises paranoia, so it’s feasible), but otherwise, they slide down madly. They pooch. They are Not Comfortable. And they do not make me feel any better about my changing shape.
Thing1 is trying to bust out here. I have resorted to two early 2000s coats (generously cut) as I couldn’t get anything done up over boob, sweatshirt and scarf (and it has been Cold). Thank heavens for patient parents who store these things. A spot of long-overdue mending, and I am covered up without feeling constrained. I hadn’t realised how much tight coats were contributing to my feeling lumpen.
I have also bought some maternity leggings. The relief. A waistband basically at bra level. They stay up! They do not pooch! Simon Cowell is onto something here. I might have bought a dress, cunningly cut to accommodate a bump. I nearly bought a skirt, but it was made of rather solid denim, and while it fitted OK, it was not comfortable with all the blood-thinner related bruising. My stomach? A mess. I will spare you the photo.
It’s a bump. This is most definitely a burgeoning bump. I no longer look like I’m just a bit fat. I have a solid bump.
I’m just a bit excited by that!
But it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t involve submersion in chlorinated water.
I think I’ll take that. And go again and cycle a little longer. With an audiobook (somehow, I will get to the end of “The Mysteries of Udolpho”, despite it being an extremely long, dull, book with one of the damper types of heroine).
But I think I have to. Running during this pregnancy is not going to be an option. Not on these wobbly paths and pavements.
I’ve been out four or five times now, and the last couple of times, I’ve had ligament pain at the tops of my thighs, where they join the pelvis. And not just while running – afterwards, for most of the day. Which makes me waddle, and wobble, and is generally annoying. I suspect this is partly to do with how my hips are put together – like my father’s legs, everything naturally turns inwards, and I am pigeon-toed at the best of times. Add in the extra progesterone during pregnancy, a tendency to round ligament pain when I sneeze – and we can all see where this is going. I don’t want to exacerbate things to the point where I end up with belts and crutches and all sorts.
I think this is my body saying ‘No. No. Not for you right now’. Which is annoying, and disappointing, but I must, and shall listen.
Well. After I’ve consulted my chiropractor on Thursday (but I think the answer’s going to be the same).
Hmmm. Swimming or stationary bike then. Probably the stationary bike (urk. Joining a gym. Fortunately, there’s one 15 minutes or so walk away – which makes a nice warm up and cool down). I do not like being cold and wet, and I don’t think my swimming costume will cover my boobs anymore. And who wants to buy a swimsuit in January?