At about this point, I was starting to feel under pressure about housing. Probably just hormones again, right? Wrong! I was anxiously checking the housing online system every day and on this day, it just so happened to have gone through, woo, we’re getting a house! Wait, are we? Wrong again! Placed in category D, the lowest category, for wanting to simply live independently. I’m sorry, did I not mention the growing child in my uterus that inevitably will make its departure one day and probably require a home to live in. Oh that’s right, I did mention it, but I’m sure the little one would be just as fine crawling about the streets. I’ll make a moses basket out of some bubble wrap and somebody’s recycling bin, shall I?
A few phone calls later resulting in tears, I’d abandoned us finding a place at all and had to be brought to sanity again by the other half. We looked at a few private rent properties and figured we might as well go see a few, signed up for some viewings and began thinking about going down that road. And god I’m so glad we did, because by this point we had seen a nice two bedroom house that was nice enough inside, perfect size and didn’t have all the crap fees needed to move in. The day later, deposit was down and two weeks later – we had the keys to our very own place!
Things were actually coming together by this point (..and by coming together, I mean getting scarier – the next step is actually having this baby!?)
Just in case anyone is reading this and they’re at the ‘pregnant and looking for our own place’ stage in their life, paying bills is not fun. It’s depressing and soul destroying and the only consolation is that you have a roof over your head and place to call your own.
This at least I remember, for two wonderful reasons – my big brother finally got married and just wow, the wedding was absolutely gorgeous. Vicki looked absolutely stunning and my brother handsome and yeah, I’m sure I cried when she walked down the aisle. Is that normal at a wedding? I can’t differentiate between what’s a normal way to react to things and what’s the pregnant way to react. But anyway, here we are, mammy and daddy.. whilst you are still so very very tiny and growing in there..
The second and probably what should be the less important reason as to why I actually remember 26 weeks pregnant, was that when we did go to the wedding, we all decided to stay over in the premier inn in Newcastle. Sounds pretty basic right? Maybe we’re just easily pleased.. but WOW. I died and went to heaven the moment I crawled into that bed that night, it was that amazing. The most comfortable bed ever and the first full, uninterrupted, comfortable night’s sleep in a very long time. That’s right, this much joy over one night’s sleep. Is this what I had to look forward to, disturbed nights that were inevitably going to get worse? I think back then I didn’t realise just how much I should have appreciated sleep, god knows how I’ll cope with a screaming baby keeping us up.
Perfectly topped off with an all you can eat breakfast on the morning, followed by a look round the Sunday market on the river side where I was able to buy some very cute baby gingerbread men that looked like babies – that’s right, I bought some ginger babies. Because oh, the irony.
Brilliant weekend full of small pleasures. Keep them coming.
Oh and before I forget, my bump finally starting to protrude a little..
That’s right, the first midwifey appointment, where I got to pee in a tub, have my blood pressure checked and four vials of blood drained from my poor little body. Not only that but I had the pleasure of answering about a thousand questions about mine and OH’s health background and about birth plans and all sorts, as well as finding out that because I’m underweight, I need a few more consults than usual at the hospital, which means more weeing in a tub. The NHS really are so lucky for my generous contributions, aren’t they. The blood taking was the worst (I hate needles!) but I suppose if I can’t get through that.. there really is no hope for me harbouring and eventually bringing into the world something somewhat larger than a watermelon.
On a positive – THE SCAN DATE. AAAAH. The scan date is actually the 21st Feb, 17 days away. That’s just over two weeks to actually see this little grape/strawberry sized thingy that’s growing inside of me, causing me nausea, discomfort and hormonal mood swings. It better be bloody worth it in the end. Right now I’m just hoping everything’s healthy and happy and going ahead as planned, even if my body absolutely cannot take it. Oh well.
17 days to go.
OH, and I’m also convinced we’re having a boy. I think I mentioned this previously, but it’s just some weird sense. There are baby girl names we love to bits, that suit so well and we are so certain of.. and no boy names. NO BOY NAMES. And whilst my side of the family want a girl, his side wants a boy and I have no faith in me getting my own way in this. Plenty of time to think I guess, but the cute little lacey dresses in ASDA’s baby event are toying with me! No fair!