In what is fast becoming a recurring theme, I am officially pooped again. I suppose it may have something to do with being 34 weeks pregnant, but it still takes me slightly by surprise. I don’t think I fully appreciated my normal energy levels in the past; I’ll never take them for granted again. That is, if they ever return. Parents tell me – with sick glee, I might add, as though nothing on earth will give them greater pleasure than watching my life fall in a heap – that exhaustion is the overwhelming feature of my forthcoming change in status, shortly followed by fear and guilt. Glad we’ve got that sorted, then. Sounds tops.
Another freelance job came in yesterday afternoon, and the tight turnaround meant three phone interviews before the close of business yesterday, then transcribing all last night. This morning was spent writing the two articles, and after filing on schedule at midday, I headed downtown to Sydney Ultrasound for Women for the 34-week ‘foetal wellness’ scan. Llewie met me beforehand, and luckily this time we were seen close to the appointment time, so my full bladder didn’t become the crippling Waiting Room Crisis of the last visit.
All, I am very pleased and relieved to report, appears well. Baby J made life a bit difficult for J, the lady performing the ultrasound, because he or she decided to keep moving right throughout the examination, barely lying still long enough for J to record the necessary measurements and images. Before we began I mentioned we were leaving the sex of the baby a surprise, so J instructed us to close our eyes – “I’m serious, close them, and don’t open them again until I say” – for that part of the ultrasound. When she suggested Llew and I might gaze at each other instead, I said, “No chance – he’s incapable of that when there’s any sort of screen in the room.” Llew laughed heartily at that one, no doubt because it’s so bloody well true.
The images are a bit dodgy – Baby J’s all squashed in there, and in one shot looks more like a demonic lion cub than a cute little human bundle – but it was still lovely to see him or her squirming around in there, ribcage, brain, heart, kidneys and all, weighing in at about 2.9 “totally average” kilos. And the cord? Working most obligingly, and not coiled around Baby J’s little neck. Hallelujah. Also it looks like my placenta has moved well out of the way, so assuming all goes well on the day, that clears me for a tilt at natural labour. In other words, things couldn’t have gone any better. No wonder I felt my first surge of maternal pride.