Well it's been...an interesting week I guess. Can't really remember much of it, apart from sleeping, trying not to barf, trying to psyche myself up to practice my cello (which I still haven't done), obsessing over baby stuff and trying to decide what the hell to write in my blog. But here's something lovely:

Due Date: 01/03/2008
Week: 12+1 day
Month: 3
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 10 weeks
Fetus Heartbeat: 158 bpm
Time To Go: 194 days

Yeppers, new due date (because Mocha is a whale already) so let's say hello second trimester!! Can you say 'still feeling shit'? I'm still narked over the whlle DPA thing (cos you know, dog with a bone...) and had some fabulous news from the doc yesterday.

Doc the 2nd: I'm not happy about you carrying around your cello and bass, especially with your sciatica. And what are you going to do about September?

Me: Um...

Doc the 2nd: Do you have any numbness? Where does it hurt at the moment?

Me: Um, well not numbness, just pins and needles...

Doc the 2nd: Ok I think I'm going to refer you to physio, they should be in touch with you soon.

etc etc... And a marvellous phone call from my midwife 2 days earlier.

Midwife: Hi, we have your blood results through, and everything is fine apart from that you have sickle cell trait..


Midwife: Uh, I'm guessing you didn't know that.

So now they're going to stab DH for blood too. Add to this the possibility of antenatal depression, postnatal depression, more blood tests and my head exploding, things are just marvellous. Oh and just in case I hadn't learnt to just ignore the phone when it rings, just had CJ on -

CJ: So, when are you coming back?

Me: Don't know, Doc the 2nd has said I might not even be allowed to play anymore.

CJ: Don't wanna ask but just wondering how come you're still gigging...

Me: Well, it's because I beg lifts from DH or risk driving and crashing my car again and because I'll lose my fucking marbles stuck in this house doing shit all and because I can only play an hour at a time anyway before I either fall asleep or supress the urge to scream in agony over my frigging leg/ass/back.

I didn't actually say those words, but perhaps used the less explicit version. You know what though? I want to go back. I think about The Situation everyday. After this Mocha is born, I would love to go back to a couple of days a week. But I truly believe they want me out the door. Which sucks donkey bollocks. I wanted to be pleased someone had called me. But that paranoia still says 'yeh it's all a load of shit, babes'.

I am, however, starting to seriously wonder if this sciatica will ever ease up, or will it just get so bad that I can't even play anymore. That scares me a whole lot. I'm still outrageously tired, yet my sleep at night...well...ha. Mocha might not be kicking me yet, but my bladder sure likes to let me know of it's presence.

And the good news for this post? Um....

Oh yeh!! If you poke my belly hard enough you can feel a uterus in there. I'm growing a small but very firm watermelon.