Things they don’t tell you about pregnancy #7

Your eyebrows start to race to meet the hair at your temples.

Honestly. I’ve never plucked above the eyebrow before, except in a slightly misguided moment in my teens (but we’ve all done that, right? Please tell me it wasn’t just me).

I intend to find somewhere that does threading.


Things they don’t tell you about pregnancy #6

The most innocuous substances are somehow verboten. Paracetamol: fine. Canestan: only the weak version. Vicks: fine. Arnica: probably OK as a homeopathic pill but god forbid you apply the cream.

Anything which hasn’t had a double blind study of some type is dubious and therefore forbidden. Then there are various crunchy granola types who cast doubt on everything normal but chemical.

Googling to find all this out is time consuming. However, generally speaking, someone has asked the same question on a forum somewhere and there’s always someone reassuring about it.


Things they don’t tell you about pregnancy #4

Insomnia and the ability to nap the afternoon away is a perfectly valid combination.

If a little frustrating. I’ve worked out that my optimum activity level is something around 7500-9000 steps a day: enough to earn a free hot drink at Starbucks (hello peppermint hot chocolate!) on the health insurance each week. More than 9000 steps and I’ll be tired the next day. More than my “usual” 10,500 and I need a nap right now.

Ability to sleep on the train: enormous. Ability to sleep in bed? Not so much… weird.


The Nanobrewery

Every once in a while, the kitchen becomes a nanobrewery. Today is one of those days. Fortunately, N is bottling from the keg, rather than starting a new brew, because BH Calcutta (Passed With Distinction) here really could not stick the smell.

Bottling is stinky enough.

There are odd noises emanating from the kitchen. And the odd swear word. I wonder if it is safe to venture in and make some tea (decaf. I cannot remember the last time I had caffeinated tea or coffee. I do remember the last caffeinated running gel…. go figure).

I miss running. But the combination of the massive ovarian cyst (yes, still) and general exhaustion means it’s not going to happen any time soon. Aye well. Basingstoke Half is going to happen next year. Somehow. Or Milton Keynes Winter Half. One or the other.


In an effort to relax

My dear friend W gave me a pep talk, reminded me I have heat, hot water, and an indoor loo (he was born in a dirt shack, his Dad used a pamphlet from Sears for guidance, and almost dropped him), and that I am to stop googling and eat more prunes. Am heading to the health food store at lunchtime. He pointed out the bun is in the oven, and will cook better if I don’t fret myself to smithereens. I think he has a point.

There are so many lovely Christmas trees.

And I have glorious yarn on my desk (a present. It’s silk. I have plans. It will be lace, and the next thing I knit for me. At the moment… I pet it).

The commute was very pretty, and had a bonus extra long nap (train was 20 minutes late into Waterloo). I saw the Chiropractor, who has managed to ease off both shoulder and foot, which should mean no more middle of the night spasms. No acupuncture, not with anticoagulants, but pregnancy means I am more receptive to simple massage (a rare event). Booked in for a month’s time, as I felt rather better for the extremely gentle adjustments.

There’s also fresh pineapple at work. Yum. And I am going to have gluten free mac and cheese for my lunch, and something yum from Leon for supper (packed lunch went by the wayside. By the time I got home last night, all I was good for was to eat supper really slowly, get two questions correct on University Challenge, and knit. Oh. And cry at the Pampers midwife advert).


She burps. She burps.

And then she burps some more… strangely reassuring.

This week has been punctuated with myriad worries (that new mattress was a bit pongy? What if Thing1 ends up with webbed feet? Oh drat. Took wrong version of buscopan: but cannot find any evidence either way to say it’ll hurt Thing1 so probably won’t….). And a degree of googling (am I supposed to have gained weight, because I haven’t really? Oh. Apparently not. Well that’s OK). Random worries. My search history is getting right peculiar.

This week also involved a former colleague taking one look at me and saying “Are you with child?”, which makes me pretty sad I’m not working there anymore as I know he would not have allowed me to do anything (he’s a protective sweetiepie, whose wife lost more than one) more strenuous than lift a mug of tea. N won’t let me climb up on a stool. Mum wouldn’t let me go out in the ice. And I’ve twigged that the OHSS is still affecting me, and that I do expand a bit if I walk too much, so maybe 10,500 steps should be regarded as a limit rather than an aim. And my aim could be 7,500 (enough to earn enough health insurance points to get a free hot drink each week). I need to look after myself. I am pretty rubbish at this.

Mostly, I feel like I’m on the verge of a cold, but without the sniffles. Just that degree of tired…. slow moving. Sluggish.

So, this morning I should be doing Guidemin (Browniemin was yesterday) and working up to my tax return before my Mother in Law arrives (I am not in the mood for my Mother in Law today. I will be nice). Instead, I have had an epic bath and sewn felt onto the back of my mini cross stitches to tidy them up.