I've been having lots of weird twinges, which of course had me paranoid that I was experiencing Braxton Hicks (vague labour type thing, but not real labour) but I think the bambino just looks likes to jump up and down in my va-jay-jay and has extended her abilities to being able to kick or punch me in my left side...




Yesterday, I finally did it. I brought some baby clothes and I can't believe how small they are! I'm trying to order more stuff on Gap.com at the moment through a US delivery service Borderlinx, which enables UK residents to order from American sites that don't deliver overseas. The exchange rate is so good, it's be too good to miss. In the meantime though, I got some neutral stuff as our paranoia about the margin of error when it comes to girls means that we've decided to get neutral stuff for now....
The boyf has just woken up on the couch and I called him 'sleepy head'. He let male pride rear its head and announced that he was never going to sleep again. That's quite a promise! Unfortunately he's just dozed off again as I heard a distinct snore...
If one more person asks me if I'm afraid about the labour, I will frigging scream. The joys of being pregnant mean that despite the fact that you're cacking yourself about pushing something the size of a basketball out of something that normally fits penises in it, is overriden by the acceptance that it has to happen and obviously you want to see your baby.




