This be the verse

Last night, which was a Friday, i managed to stay awake until 9 o'clock. Do you hear me people? I was so excited and happy and i kind of feel like i'm getting my life back. Woohoo!
In other news, there is one question that everybody asks as soon as they hear i'm preggo: Do you know what you're having? Some people even asked this after the 8 week scan. Hello, we could hardly see legs, let alone a penis (or not?).
Are people obsessed, or what? What does it matter to them what gender my unborn child is? Or is it just polite small-talk? I have found myself to be guilty of the same thing at times.
One colleague said to me "you have to find out, so you can sort out all the clothes and stuff". Excuse me? Prior to gender screening, did babies not used to wear any clothes at all for the first two weeks of life? Sorry child, we didn't know if you were a pink or blue wearer so there's nothing to wear, i'm afraid.
Anyway, i (politely) replied "makes no difference, as no daughter of mine will ever wear pink anyway. This is a feminist i'm building", but i'm just not sure if people get me.
My favourite colour is navy blue. Why would i start buying pink all of a sudden when i've never been remotely interested in this colour before? I'm already checking out blue prams, blue baby converse shoes and blue car seats. God forbid if people can't see immediately what gender my child is.
I'm not sure if the gender thing is more chilled in Sweden, but here everyone is obsessed and it drives me mad. Why does a newborn child need to look like they're a boy or a girl? Until a child reaches puberty, they're the same anyway. And anyone who claims that boys like cars and my daughter is crazy about pink, think again. They are what you make them. As far as i'm aware there is only one princess born this year, all other babies are mere mortal children. You push pink and fairy crap on your daughter, of course that's what she'll think she likes.
It's hard. Having a child and ensuring you and "it" remain feminist in all you believe in.
And what we're having? A child, is my answer.

Massive

There's obviously some sort of sports programme on in the background, but ignore that now and check out my massiveness.

14 +0

Queens

Check this out! You know that old thing that sometimes happened to women 50-100 years ago. Turns out it still happens in some places: Women dying whilst giving birth. And not just any old somewhere, but in MY hospital. Thanks!We'd already decided that this would be our hospital, it's around the corner, and its sister hospital is just as bad, woohoo. I've told Bill that if anything weird seems to be happening, have a private hospital ready on standby to take me away. I'll make sure I have £3000 tucked away just in case.
Childbirth is not scary at all, is it?

Night life

I get so jealous when I hear of all these people who feel just fine, better than ever in fact, who can eat sugar and chocolate and stay awake until 2100 hours. After this week, which began with me sticking my head in a toilet bowl, i am now beginning to feel a little bit better. I said a little bit. I can eat properly, but only food that is incredibly good for me. This is great, but once in a while it'd be nice to pig out on some pudding. I'm hoping that this will stop me from reaching whale-size proportions though. Ok, we'll see.
This week i got a letter from the hospital saying they forgot to test my blood levels last time i gave them blood, so now i've got to go back. Maybe i can finally get some iron and feel almost normal again. Come on!

Magic fourteen

Today is a special day: It's the 14th of February, which means it's exactly 6 months until baby's due date. Today I also begin week 14 and it's my husband's birthday and Valentine's Day (if you care about that, I don't). Fourteen indeed. I said to Bill that we have to name our child something beginning with the 14th letter of the alphabet. N. Nora, Nova, Noah, Noel. He thinks not. We can't talk about names. We'll be lucky if our child will end up with a name at all. In other news, I've been feeling rotten the last few days. Proper vomitting. I didn't know what I was talking about when I was talking about morning sickness. This is spewing galore and I've promised my husband (and myself) a birthday dinner tonight, complete with a shower, clean hair, proper clothes (not pyjamas) and maybe even make-up. Sigh! We might change it to lunch instead, as I can't eat after 5pm and to avoid the Valentiners Diners.

10 days

Hello half term. Woohoo!

Early

5.30. I'm laying in bed listening out for the milk man so that I can get up and make porridge. Starving o'clock.

No likey, no lighty

I watch an awful lot of crap TV. I blame it on my job. I spend all day educating the youth about high culture (well...) that i need a junk release when i get home. I currently watch Jeremy and the man who sleeps with his step-daughter. Just how i want it.
I obviously, and religiously, watch The only way is Essex. I have to follow my fellow country men, ain't i? But the problem is, I can't stand them. There's so much to hate it's difficult to keep up: the caked on layers of make-up they wear to stupid things like pyjama parties; the cobstant moaning about boyfriends and gossip and crap. Man, it's so uninteresting i want to shout each time i watch it. The latest thing is how they've all opened up little shops now, because that's not a huge business initiative, oh no, you can just take time off whenever you want to go and give your dog a manicure or to put more plastic in your body and get even more ugly.
Of course, i continue to watch it though. For Joey Essex and for the constant recognition of where they are.
Another love/hate programme that i watch is Take Me Out. Oh, it's annoying. The girls turn their lights off if they don't fancy a date with the man. And oh my god, i've never seen such fussy weirdos. They turn their lights off if someone likes football, if they work out, if they're at university, if someone is funny instead of vain. No wonder they're all still single. But i watch it all the same.

Sexy time

OMG, i dream about sex all the time. Ex-lovers, husband, anyone really. I dream about penises and orgasms so strong i actually think they happen in my sleep. It's the combo of oestrogen and progesterone apparently. I know from previous medications that oestrogen is like sex in a pill, and now it's flowing naturally i seem to have hit horny central. The only problem, i wake up and the feeling's gone. Okay!

Ett brev till mitt barn

Hej lilla fina finaste.
Jag vill att du alltid ska veta hur mycket vi har langtat efter dig och hur mycket vi saknade dig innan du fanns. Du ar en drom, ett mirakel, en langtan, och du ar antligen pa vag.
Din pappa och jag har lyckats tillverka 21 embryon. Det ar jattemanga. I borjan fick du dela plats med ett annat, men det andra ville inte stanna kvar. Nu ar jag glad att det ar bara ar du. Att de andra inte ville bli nagonting, for det var dig vi vantade pa och ville ha hela tiden. Vi har kannt dig och alskat dig sen du var 8 celler stor, och vi har undrat och fragat och gratit och varit radda att du inte ville stanna. Men det ska du. Du ar var speciella, finaste lilla lubba och dig ska vi alska i hela vart liv.

(Yes, i can still speak Swedish...)

Food

Disgusting right now:
Coffee, sugar, whipped cream, gooey chocolate, ginger, alcohol (not that I've had any), apple juice (yep, went off that one), whatever it is that stinks in our fridge.
Yummy right now:
Green grapes, cold apples, lime cordial, toast, cheese, cheese on toast, pasta with tomato sauce and lots of cheese, milk, rice, beef. Cheese.

In the oven

I was thinking about our baby and trying to do some maths. I'm quite good at mental arithmetics, although I prefer not to be as I am a lady of the arts. We don't like maths.As I am 100% Swedish and Bill is 25% Bangladeshi, 50% English and 25% Welsh, what will our baby be?
A caramel and vanilla cupcake of course.
To be honest, when people ask me if I'm going to find out the gender, I must confess I am more curious about its colour. Black or blonde hair or inbetween? Olive or white skintone? Green or brown eyes? So exciting.
The answer? 50% Swedish, 12.5% Bangla, 25% English and 12.5% Welsh. Kind of cool!

12+3

News. Old news to me, today it is exactly 8 weeks since we found out and it's also the first morning in a long time that I've kept my breakfast down.
Preggo, preggers, up the duff, bun in the oven, expecting, in the family way.
Hurrah! If you want to catch up, follow the link.

Wriggles

On Wednesday the blood came. In hindsight, it was very very little, but it was red, the wrong colour, the bad colour.
There was panic in that blood. I shouldn't bleed, this shouldn't happen, so at 8pm we went to A&E and the early pregnancy unit (A&E is a weird sort of place by the way, will have to dissect that one at a later date). As we sat there waiting, for four hours, the bleeding almost stopped. No pain, I felt normal, things felt okay. But sitting there with women doubled over in pain and crying, I knew that I had to know. I couldn't go home.
At presicely midnight there was cold gel on my stomach and then an eternity passed before the nice doctor-man said: "It's a naughty baby already." And there it was, wriggling around like crazy so that the dr was struggling to get a clear picture, having a little dance and looking like a proper baby, not like the prawn we saw at 8 weeks. Then the man put the speakers on and we heard the loudest ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom. Loud and happy and naughty. I love you being loud and happy and naughty, little wriggles.
The blood? It happens apparently, but I hope it won't happen again because I never want to experience that fear and worry again.