In which I blather about No. 9

I'm glad you all kind of liked Harriet as a name option. I've added it to the list. Right over the top of Jaci which is one Al liked (consequently he will not be allowed anywhere near a pen come time to fill out name-type paperwork when the baby arrives), and above Ruari (the feminine version of Rory) which Al hates somewhat. I've left off Raoul for a boy altogether because I'm pretty sure Al was taking the piss.

We're doing ok, No. 9 and I. My morning sickness seems to be easing (I'm not saying that out loud though because if the kid hears, it'll be game over) and I'm getting days at a time at the moment where there's no barfing, or just one or two barfs, which is absolute bliss. Although No. 9 is growing, obviously, all the time, I'm pretty sure that about every week to 10 days I can feel him/her having a particularly enthusiastic growth spurt. My internal thermostat stops working altogether, I want to sleep all. the. time, and oh! the barfing! Plus my brains fall out my ears more than normal, and I can not get comfortable to save my life. I'm sure I can feel things shifting around in there as No. 9 unceremoniously seizes more space to use for his/her evil lair. It seems incredible that it's only likely to be another 8 weeks or so before I can actually feel him/her doing laps of my uterus and using whatever takes his/her fancy as a trampoline. Can't wait.

The next step for the moment though is our NT (nuchal translucency) scan (we check that No. 9 is growing on track, but more particularly the scan will measure the chances of No. 9 having Downs Syndrome or other possible developmental issues) which is on 14th July.

Ooooh! And I've been clean for the last 10 days which is heaven. Aside from cutting that last tie to IVF, it's very nice indeed not to be loading up with hormones 3 times a day. The transition was incredibly unpleasant - the first day off them was fine, but by day two my body realised that it wasn't getting its hits and complained loudly and painfully. The adjustment took about 4 days to come right and I've been absolutely shattered all week, but I think I'm coming out the other side now. I managed to make Al chocolate brownies this afternoon anyway, which is impressive because I managed to do it without hurling for a start, and secondly, I stood up for about 15 minutes without coming within a hair's-breath of passing out. I may even get brave this week and leave myself to wake up on my own in the night to make bathroom dashes instead of relying on pre-emptive alarms. As No. 9 moves up, the pressure on my lower abdomen which was causing screaming pain is easing which is such a relief, and even though I know it'll be back at some point, it's nice to be given just a little space to recover a bit.

I feel like I deserve a medal, I tell ya.

The only other thing of note is that Al and I did the 'ring test' - a highly accurate (I doubt very much) pagan tradition of hanging one's wedding ring off a piece of string or a hair (I went with hair) and dangling it over the kid to see whether it goes around in circles (boy) or swings from side to side (girl). According to this No. 9 is a pink one ...but we might just wait for the scan and see what sort of bits he/she has. I had to gape open mouthed at the husband (who has been and remains completely convinced No. 9 is a girl) last weekend though when we stopped in at the Pumpkin Patch outlet and he said rather mournfully "sometimes I wish we were having a boy ... there's so much cool stuff to buy". Ummmm .....?????????? He then proceeded to convince me that we absolutely had to buy a pair of newborn cowboy boots (and y'all thought I was the bonkers one) as a nod to Uncle Stu.

Otherwise, it still feels completely surreal and I have moments on a regular basis where I feel an overwhelming suspicion that I'm just getting fat, and even though it's amazingly peaceful and wonderful to sit down in a rocking chair in No. 9's room to read him/her stories, I can completely sympathise with the dogs who sit there in the doorway with their little heads cocked to one side looking at me like I've gone around the bend. It does sometimes feel a bit like that's all that's happened.

And since I'm here and downloading photos - would you cop a look at what happens if you let a border collie near a garden? (I suggest paying particular attention to her nose, which should not be brown) She hasn't worked out yet that she's a dog, not a pig.