23 Weeks
Look, I'm all in a muddle now. I'm 23 weeks today (hurrah!), which I thought meant I had graduated to a butternut squash, but apparently not, apparently (at least according to my Glow Nurture app) I'm on an ear of corn (spiky). Yet the handy chart above says that that's actually next week, and I am in fact still on a papaya. I'm not trying to cheat, honest. Can we all just agree that the fruit and veg thing is COMPLETELY STUPID AND ANNOYING? Thank you.
Not much has happened this week except for the following:
1) I have developed acid reflux/regurgitation. This is pretty horrible, especially after my bout of norovirus the other week. Now, after every meal, all the food I've eaten seems to decide to jump up and down my oesophagus, despite the fact it's been very firmly SWALLOWED. Put simply, I keep being sick into my mouth. It's lovely. Really lovely. The only thing that helps is Gaviscon Double Action (the liquid), which I am getting through tons of. I think it basically creates a seal on the top of your food pipe that keeps the food in your stomach where it belongs.
What's weird about this is that I don't feel nauseous at all, but I can't seem to keep food down. Literally! It's especially bad in the evenings when I slump on the sofa after dinner. Slumping is bad. Slumping has always been bad, but is now forbidden.
2) The baby has been doing lots and lots of partying in my uterus. And I really love it! Oli got freaked out the other day because you can now actually watch my stomach jumping about. I have yet to see a hand or foot print emerge from under my skin, but there are definite ripples and peaks that appear when the baby moves. I know it sounds kind of gross and horrible, and I always saw it that way before I got pregnant myself, but it's actually so cute and lovely and really does make me grin. (Apart from when the baby decides to do it at 2.40am and keeps me awake - babies seem to like moving about just when you want to go to sleep, so I've realised. Guess this is something to get used to).
Other than that, I thought this week I might have a bit of a rant about maternity clothes. If blue doesn't suit you and you don't like wearing stripes, you better adopt. That's all I can say. ALL HIGH STREET MATERNITY CLOTHES ARE BLUE AND/OR STRIPED. Seriously, it's like some kind of friggin' uniform, marking you out. 'Look everyone! this bird had sex in the last few months!' There's truly nothing more depressing than JoJo Maman Bebe's maternity section - I managed to find a few pieces that didn't make me want to shoot myself but the lack of imagination involved in designing maternity wear is shameful. And don't even go into Mothercare unless you want to despair for humanity.
As I'm so vain (as established earlier in my pregnancy) I have been scouring the internet for alternatives to traditional maternity clothes and thus found Seraphine, Isabella Oliver and my absolute favourite, Madderson London. These brands have saved me, but my god they're pricey. I've also bought a load of things in Cos, which has plenty of oversized tops that aren't maternity but work really well. But I would say 90% of my maternity wardrobe is from Seraphine, who thankfully have really good sales on quite often. Their bamboo leggings are my new favourite things in the world (something weird, is it just me? I really don't like wearing trousers now I'm pregnant, and jeans especially, even maternity ones - too much constriction around my tummy). And I've also picked up a rather yawnsome but practical grey maxi skirt from them which I can see myself wearing all summer until it falls apart.
Anyway to end this post, here's a pic of me in both the skirt (looking depressingly knackered) and some stripes (conforming). Apologies for the black bra under the white vest top (rant on maternity bras also soon to come) and the massive VPL in both pics (made you look!) but common decency has given way to comfort and I don't care anymore. I'm pregnant. This is the only time in my life when eating microwave spaghetti carbonara will not make me feel guilty, and when I don't give two hoots about the state of my underwear. So there.