Apparently, my uterus is now the size of a soccer ball. Now, if that’s not the most frightening information that I’ve ever read… I don’t know what is.
Well, Me and my soccer-ball uterus have been chewing through the time like there’s no tomorrow. I looked at my calendar today and realized that there is a little under 3 weeks, until I’m 30 weeks.
I had to sit down.
Oh, and do you know all those old-wives-tales about something called Pregnancy Brain … Yeah, well they’re all bloody true. All of them. My brain has officially turned to mush, more so than it was before.
It’s the end of summer in Australia, but just because it’s the end, doesn’t mean that anything is cooling down. I’ve discovered the best place to be when it’s one of those scorching hot days, is either in the pool or downstairs in the air-con. The humidity is floating somewhere around 85-95% daily, so even if it’s not that hot temperature wise, it still feels like you could ring me out.
The hospital has ballsed-up my appointments.. yet again. For some reason I was put of the ‘regular pregnancy’ (not high risk) list for a period of a few months, so no one was concerned whatsoever. I went in last week for a obg/yn appointment, and they’d realised what they’d done.
Other than that, my little uterus demon has been kicking up a storm in there recently and making me well aware that the space is becoming less inviting and more squished. 2am sounds like the appropriate time for practising the flamenco on my bladder… doesn’t it?