I had been planning on writing a post about how I only have a few weeks of pregnancy left in my entire life and how this makes me sad as I love being pregnant and would have given anything for another couple of chances. But that would have been self-indulgent and blinkered to how wonderful my life is now and my unpregnant self would definitely have unsubscribed at that point.
Yesterday Baby A wasn’t moving as much as usual. They say to count ten movements every two hours. I can usually count ten a minute. If she doesn’t move, I just give her a poke and she kicks back. This has provided endless reassurance but I knew that if it slowed down or stopped, I would be straight back in that place. And yesterday, there I was. Baby was moving but in infrequent slow ripples rather than constant vigorous kicks and punches. I lasted until 4pm and called obs. Obs was unavailable but midwife did a trace on baby’s heartbeat and all was well. By the time I got home, baby was making me squirm uncomfortably again. I have been told that I am probably overdoing it and to take it easy from now on. I admitted to the midwife that I had been working hard recently but didn’t confess the immense stress, strain and excitement that I probably put baby through on Tues night during Man Utd’s Champion’s League semi-final victory over Barcelona. The final is one week before my due date…..
So, baby is well, book has been launched and Man Utd are on their way to another historic double. This may well be my last few weeks of pregnancy ever but I have a lot to be thankful for.