Two Bags of Sugar

Howdy. All quiet on the Western Front and not much going on down south either (if you know what I mean, ho ho). A bit of rummaging and painful kicking from one or two of the eight limbs threatening to burst alien-like from my ever increasing abdomen. A few contractions as a result I suspect. It’s like being assaulted by a grumpy Octopus.

Today started badly. I woke up cross because no one brought me any food or even offered me a cup of tea till 9.15 and I’d been up since 5. I mean what kind of hotel do you call this? I said I was going out to get breakfast and it magically arrived. Decided I couldn’t get through the day if I was going to fight the world so I made friends with the midwives and found a fragile peace.

I got a scan here to save me transferring to another hospital. Our little girl has put on a third of her body weight again this week (you go girl. Neat trick.) She is a very decent 1330g now. A bag and a third of sugar). The little boy has tipped over into the kilo club too (1 bag of sugar) although he still has mummy’s ridiculously short femurs measuring three weeks behind. He can be my ping pong pal. All that beige hospital food must be doing something. I have started a Beige Food Diary on Facebook for my own entertainment. It’s a bit cryptic for those who an’t in the know. I’ve actually started to resent any green elements should they present themselves as it ruins my set of pictures.

Two friends made me very welcome visits. Sarah with homemade brandy snaps, fruit and a beautiful flask to save me ever having to be grumpy again for lack of tea. Karen, with amazing Lebanese food from down the road. You are both my heroes. Thank you.

Lucas couldn’t come today because he has a vomiting bug. A bit dangerous for me and everyone else in the ward. Poor G finished a job today and wanted to come here or go out but my mother in law sensibly suggested a quiet night in. I would have liked to have been there to help you celebrate my dear. Still, those days will come again.

So Andy Murray won. Wimbledon’s proving a good distraction. Maybe I’ll knit him a runners up hat for Sunday.

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