And yet once again I'm not sure who fecked up the maths. I'm 18 weeks and three days pregnant and yet only four months... this time five months with God's grace (and if you are not late) I'll be holding you in my arms.
Oh my sweet baby, I can't wait to hold you and to get to know you. I can't wait to breathe you in, to smell your baby smells (the nice ones, obviously), to feel your soft skin against mine, to watch your face form 101 different expressions and to listen to all those delicious new baby noises.
I can't wait to introduce to your rocking big brother and have my two babies together with me, in my arms. I can't wait to have your daddy smile and look proud to get to know you. And boy oh boy, I can't wait til you meet your granny and grandad and, your godparents and guideparents. You are one lucky bambino.
It's hard for me now, even when I feel you wriggle (Joseph kicked at this stage, for the record... you are much more placid already), to imagine you actually in our lives - so I long for the days when you are a tangible entity.
For what it's worth, now I can no longer lie on my stomach. I struggle to bend down to reach my feet and I feel like a weeble although I've not put on any weight in 7 weeks. (You make me sick, you rascal).
My hair is growing at the speed of light, my face is pizza'ed and yet this week several people have said I'm glowing. I think it's in a radioactive way.
I still feel ill, my heartburn is chronic but I know - just know - that you are worth it.
I love you baby Bam Bam.
Mummy
xxx
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