apparently even educated fleas do it. But I'm not talking about falling in love (although it does play a big part), I'm talking about babies. There's an epidemic in my social circle – seven six pregnant friends at last count ... three of whom are at the critical 12-week (Yay! We can finally tell people) stage.
This morning one of the ovens that has/had a bun in it popped out a beautiful, bouncing, baby girl called Emma Rose... (Allowing a pause for 'aaaaah, what a pretty name!') Turns out they named the little sprog after the two grannies... (Allowing another pause for 'aaaah, that's sooooo lovely!')
Anyway, about two minutes after receiving the news of Mr and Mrs Watson's new bundle of joy I got an email titled '12 week scan'. One click and a couple of scroll downs later I was checking out a 30 second video clip of an ultrasound on uTube that I had been directed to.
It's an amazing thing to see and definitely one step up from the standard ultrasound pic that most mom-to-be's have taped up on the fridge, but it's quite terrifying how this little creature (at only 12 weeks) is a proper little person already...
A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! But sent my heart racing and an 'I need wine and a cigarette' message to my brain so quickly I almost fell out of my six-inch Polo court shoes. You see, I definitely want children, so does my hubby but just not right now. I'm the least broody person within a 10km radius and I'm the last person to offer to hold a girgling little bundle of joy. If its family I can make an allowance, I'll even offer to babysit, but the old addage applies: 'You can give it back at the end of the evening'
Right now I'm pretty happy with buying great 'It's a girl/boy' presents, throwing absolutely fabulous baby showers for glowing, pickle-eating pregnant friends, and getting to add aunty to the front of my name. For now that's okay and I think it may even be progress...
I can talk about morning sickness, swolen ankles, aching breasts, potential pre-schools and other 'my hormones are outta control!' things for at least an hour. A year ago I could barely manage five minutes. Progress – it comes in the funniest forms, but none funnier than the day you realise that maybe a positive pregnancy test wouldn't be such a bad thing.
This morning one of the ovens that has/had a bun in it popped out a beautiful, bouncing, baby girl called Emma Rose... (Allowing a pause for 'aaaaah, what a pretty name!') Turns out they named the little sprog after the two grannies... (Allowing another pause for 'aaaah, that's sooooo lovely!')
Anyway, about two minutes after receiving the news of Mr and Mrs Watson's new bundle of joy I got an email titled '12 week scan'. One click and a couple of scroll downs later I was checking out a 30 second video clip of an ultrasound on uTube that I had been directed to.
It's an amazing thing to see and definitely one step up from the standard ultrasound pic that most mom-to-be's have taped up on the fridge, but it's quite terrifying how this little creature (at only 12 weeks) is a proper little person already...
A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! But sent my heart racing and an 'I need wine and a cigarette' message to my brain so quickly I almost fell out of my six-inch Polo court shoes. You see, I definitely want children, so does my hubby but just not right now. I'm the least broody person within a 10km radius and I'm the last person to offer to hold a girgling little bundle of joy. If its family I can make an allowance, I'll even offer to babysit, but the old addage applies: 'You can give it back at the end of the evening'
Right now I'm pretty happy with buying great 'It's a girl/boy' presents, throwing absolutely fabulous baby showers for glowing, pickle-eating pregnant friends, and getting to add aunty to the front of my name. For now that's okay and I think it may even be progress...
I can talk about morning sickness, swolen ankles, aching breasts, potential pre-schools and other 'my hormones are outta control!' things for at least an hour. A year ago I could barely manage five minutes. Progress – it comes in the funniest forms, but none funnier than the day you realise that maybe a positive pregnancy test wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Comments