Sing it with me – “It’s the Final Countdooooown! DOO-DOO-DOOOO-DOOOOOO! DOO-DOO-DOOT-DOOT-DOOOOO….”

We are 8 months today, if you’re following the second ultrasound and ignoring the other dates the midwives have since flung in our general direction. (“29 June! 25 June! 4 July!”) Not that it really matters, as friends and colleagues who have recently spouted babies can attest. Each baby has its own clock and the turkeys decide they’re done when they’re done.

I have five business days left in the office. Seven, if I’m going into the office this weekend. Eight, if I’m sneaking into the office next Saturday to clean my desk. Today, we had work drinkies and it was just surreal to think that this is my second-last official Friday with the office folk for a long time. I think I grew fonder of all of them just by the sudden realisation that I won’t be sharing their collective company for a while. It was almost an Oprah moment, really.

Anyhoo, while I’m relatively bulbous but still not at the “get out of my body puh-lease” stage of my delicate condition, I thought I’d reflect on what I’ll miss most about being pregnant.

The inside of my belly-button

As disgusting as this sounds, I have to say that one of the most cool-weird things about being pregnant is the fact that I can check out the full splendour of my belly-button. I’ve always had an innie. Now I have a flattie with a slight upper-lip pout. And because the skin in one’s belly-button is still rather unspoiled and untouched by age and harsh elements, it’s a five-cent piece of almost-virgin skin that’s soft as what I’d imagine a baby would feel. Uber weird and too much information? Probably. But I’m going to miss my new belly-button.

Random strangers, talking to my tummy

Note to new migrants: if you’re having a tough time integrating in Australia, go and grow a human being. Because there’s no better ice-breaker, I reckon. One ceases to need shared history and culture to easily bond with another when one is so obviously experiencing such a universally common part of life – growing one. I’ve had more smiles, goodwill and conversation starts from strangers thrown my way in the last 4 months than in the 8 years I’ve lived in Australia. Mostly because people around me suddenly have something obvious and fun to chat to me about.

Letting it all hang out

As far as pregnancy diets go, I subscribe to the “well-rounded” theory. Which involves eating what I normally eat, except 30% more of it. So none of this avoiding-everything-till-all-I-have-left-is-bread-water-and-beetroot rubbish. She needs nutrients, I need nutrients, and as long as I’m not being stupid about food hygiene, I say bring it on. Also, chocolate, ice-cream, cheese and curries fall into the She Needs Calcium category. So let’s have more of that, please. And the bestest, bestest part about being pregnant? Licence to wear fat clothes. I’ve not sucked in my tummy for the last 7 months since I found out about Blobette. Do you know how AWESOME that is???

Happy Hormones

The crazy work year I’ve had has made me cranky in parts but overall, I’ve been goofy-glad. I sing more. I dance silly jigs even when someone’s looking. I laugh very loudly. And I’m as gooey as a teenager with her first crush. Of course, a part of me is aware that once these hormones switch off, I might plummet into post-partum depression and be Ultra-Bitch from Hell. But until then, I’m swimming in so much oestrogen and isn’t my man gorgeous and isn’t everyone just being wonderful and funny and I love everybodeeeeee…

I like the way you move

I love that I can feel her groovin’. I say this, even though she’s now big enough to wake me up in mid-slumber from a well-placed kick at 4.00am, and even though neither of us can agree on a good sleeping position. (I cannot stay on my right side as it feels unnatural, she protesteth much when I lie on my left. Neither of us can stand me being on my back.) There’s nothing like a sudden wriggle to remind the self that she is a separate being, already with a mind of her own, already with instincts apart from mine. It blows my mind, but in the best posssible way. Most men get to pee standing up. Some women get to feel this. I think we win.

I’m sure there’s heaps more, but these are the ones that spring to mind with each passing day. I know some women have it tough, and I know having babies isn’t for everyone, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed being pregnant thus far. It’s been da BOMB.