Sunday, August 07, 2005

The John Hurt Moment

So I'm lying in bed last night discussing with Battboy the possibility of being, perhaps, rather pregnant. Maybe as much as 17 weeks or so.

He tells me to go out and get a pregnancy test tomorrow morning.


My period has been pretty much on time and of correct duration etc.
I've had no morning sickness.
My breasts are fine.
We've been somewhat careful.
I can't feel the rise of my uterus and after 4 pregnancies I'm pretty au fait with where my uterus should be.
I haven't been going to the toilet any more than usual.
I don't feel like I could be pregnant.

So why did we think I could, in fact, be 'with child' again?

The fact that my stomach keeps tapping. It's not all the time. It comes and goes in intervals. It's not in any one particular area. I can feel it with my hand. I can see it in the bath. It has different depth of feeling - sometimes it's quite hard and other times it's just a slight ripple (like the one I just had).

To all intents and purposes it feels like I have a baby in there. And it's constantly on the move, just like Connor was. Last night, when Lee was asleep I lay with my tummy against his side and it felt like a baby kicking against the compression. Lee even twitched a couple of times when it occured, so I know he felt it, even though he can't feel it with his hand or see it. This started 5 days ago and has been going the whole time. To the point where we've started referring to our alien baby and I've written a story about it. But then last night we got serious. What if I really am pregnant? What will we do? Especially this late in the game? And what hospital would take us now after our experiences with Armadale, Fremantle and King Eddies have been far from perfect? And what about the really incredibly awfully strict diet I've been on this week (1.7kg lost, but not conducive to a growing foetus).We needed to find out as soon as possible, if not for any other reason that to reintroduce carbs back into my life.
So this morning I get out of bed and head to the chemist. I buy a test. I bring it home.


Big sighs of relief. We DO NOT want to have another baby. Connor's pregnancy (and eye problems and asthma and ability to catch every cold going) were traumatic enough. We love him, but we don't want a repeat experience. We are, to say the very least, very pleased. I can continue working in my new job, we don't have to worry about the cot situation and I can continue to exclude a whole food group from my diet. (1.7 kg. 1.7kg. 1.7kg.)

Yes, we're very very very happy.

But for one thing.

What the hell is happening in there?