I was wrong when I thought I would be totally laid back about this pregnancy. Every twinge, there every waning symptom has me running to Google and re-testing with my pee sticks, or calling NHS direct in a state of panic.
Our booking in appointment at UCH was fantastic. We were allocated a student midwife, which I was dubious of at first, but she was just lovely and able to answer our questions well. I mentioned to her the dropping off of my painful boobs (I’m able to lie on my stomach again, total revelation) as well as a faint pregnancy test (why? Why? Why? have I still been testing at 10 weeks pregnant? All credit to the midwives at UCH who they didn’t ask this question, I sure as hell would have). Still, the fact that the line was a lot weaker than my earlier tests worried me horribly.
They took my worries seriously and marched me down to the Early Pregnancy Unit for a scan. Internet, we have a baby:
It has arms and legs that were moving! A head! An umbilical cord! And what looks like a football, but is apparently a yolk.
I would like to write about how the tiredness that has taken over my life is still… well, taking over my life, but the happiness is overriding that.