Since I returned to work after a 2 week break for Christmas I have got used to the exclamations as to how big my bump had grown. It was pretty understandable really, it had become higher and therefore, probably, was more prominent, not to mention that fact that I doubt people could remember how it looked before the booze and mince pie haze.
I wasn’t quite prepared to step in the lift and be greeted with: ‘You’re eeeeenormous; you must be having a big baby! My baby was big and was born 5 weeks early.’ This sent me into panic for 2 reasons: 5 weeks early is only in 2 weeks time and the Moses basket is still on the Isle of Wight with my lovely niece peacefully slumbering in it, the pram has yet to be delivered and I have 3 more weeks of work, which I need to be able to afford all that lovely time off with my baby (not to mention the baby free weeks before hand!); and secondly, giving birth to any baby is slightly scary and quite painful, let alone a ‘big’ baby.
Luckily I only had one day of fretting. The next day was the first NCT day, and I was surrounded by bumps of the same age and, more importantly, size as mine! Also, the nice NCT lady pointed out that the hardest bits of baby to get out are the head and the shoulders; now I don’t know about you but when I put on weight I may need new knickers but never a new hat.
Later that same day I had my 32 week check with my GP, and yet again I recounted my story. He said that I should be flattered because it meant I hadn’t put on weight anywhere else so my bump just stood out a lot; and then he measured me. Hey presto, my bump came in at 32.5 cm the right size for 32 and a bit weeks (it should be a cm for each week, apparently).
So, to all those bump horrifiers out there: like Mary Poppins I’m practically perfect in everyway, including the size of my bump!
No comments:
Post a Comment