In the boudoir of a pregnant lesbian.

Before you get too excited (or horrified) this isn’t one of those posts, so go and try another google search.*

First of all can I share one of my deepest pet hates. My toes curl, my ears close of their own accord and my eyes roll back into their sockets when anyone starts a sentence with ‘I had a dream…’ (unless they are Martin Luther King). Unless you story is hilarious and less than three sentences of dream description I don’t want to hear about it. Maybe even then, actually.  The messed up workings of your unconscious mind are boring to everyone but you.

So, to add a little hypocrisy to my usual BS, here’s some stories about my dreams :-).

But seriously though, since I started using those nasty vagina bullets, and beyond I have been averaging about 2 nightmares a night. At least. It is a possibility that my 231 nightly bathroom interruptions  just mean that I am remembering the dreams, whereas before I’d stay asleep and forget them. Whatever, enough already!

Baby based nightmares I could understand but I am not limited to these horrors. I’ve had everything from death (me/WW/pets/the whole world- thanks ‘The Walking Dead’), to falling, getting trapped, out of control classes, bombs- you name it. Granted, it doesn’t help that a lot of the things we watch on TV are pretty messed up but even if I have a day/evening of warm fuzziness it doesn’t seem to matter.

I can’t even wake up and snuggle with WW for comfort are we are separated by a mountain of pillows. We have a king size bed. I occupy about 25% of the space (and growing). My pregnancy pillow occupies a further 35%. My additional 2 fluffy pillows another 15%. The duvet that is too warm for us to sleep under most nights (even with the aircon going at the lowest temp…what can I say? I like to be chilly when I sleep. Even in 40 degree weather) takes up another 15 %. Which leaves poor WW perched on the last 10%, a million miles from me and all my fluffy comfort. Poor WW. Now move over, you’re squishing my between-the-knees pillow!

In other news…

I finally went to the hair dresser yesterday as I am back to work after 3 weeks off on Monday. It was time to lose the mullet. I figured there was less chance of confusion and communication problems if I went with a picture so I spend several hours searching for the perfect ‘do’.

When we arrived WW did not specify the usual hairdresser but said ‘Anyone will do.’ I then spent the whole time in there trying to avoid eye contact with the creator of the mullet. Awkward. Very awkward. I showed some young, cute lad my pic. WW verbally confirmed. We got some reassuring nods and ‘Krub, krub’s.

I asked for this:

photo credit: here.

I received this:

 

Sigh.

 

We are still waiting for news of WW’s visa and time is ticking on. I just realized that I am back to school a week and a half before I am granted another 5 days off and all in all there is only 8 weeks total until we fly to the UK. I only have 93 days to go (approx) until Squirt stops kicking me from the inside and starts kicking me from the outside. Deep breaths.

I expressed panic when telling WW these numbers last night and my body concurred by letting go the longest, loudest fart ever. Those are a new development. I hope I return to the sneaky, silent ones before school starts on Monday or I could have some embarrassing moments ahead of me.

I have recently rediscovered the joy addictive frustration of ebay. Specifically ‘baby bundles’, which are cheap collections of clothes in one size/age group. I am finding some real bargains. But my favorite bit is when someone swoops in with 7 secs to go and tries to outbids me..but loses. Mwahhaha (evil laugh). Seriously though, who does that? …….OK, me. But in my defense I had been trying to locate an affordable Ergo baby carrier for days. And I got up at 3am my time just to see the end of the auction. Suckers.

So we are now the proud owners of : a crib, a small bed for beside our bed (definitely not fancy enough to be described as a Moses basket), a cheap and basic baby bouncy chair,  a pack and play with a changing table,17 assorted items for newborns, 20 assorted items for 3-6 months, a manual breast pump and a baby carrier. I feel wholly unprepared. All of the big things are here in Thailand and will not be making the trip to the UK with us. If anyone reading this in the UK would like to offer us a loan of newborn necessities for the 3-4 weeks we’ll be there I would be deeply grateful. Top priorities are somewhere to sleep and a car seat.

We are going to hold off on the buggy for now and see how we get on with the carrier as Bangkok is not a stroller friendly environment and rarely offers walkable pavements, let alone roll-able pavements. I know we’ll need to buy nappies and wipes and baby bath stuff and gentle washing machine liquid. But what else? Help me please all the mummies out there! But bear in mind we are on a tight (tight tight) budget, WW is…ehem….frugal and I hate clutter, so we are talking about necessities. Sound machines, for example, are not within our buying reaches.

Pregnancy Symptoms:

Well, my weight gain continues to slow but my bump is getting bigger. I bought a speedo one-piece 3 weeks ago to combat the thin-belt-around-enormous-saggy-breasts bikini issue. I can’t get it over my belly already. Damn.

I though I was past the ‘is she pregnant or fat?’ stage but maybe not as a Thai bathroom attendant told me I was really fat in Thai the other day. Thanks. She didn’t bat an eye when I stroppily told her I wasn’t fat, I was 6 months pregnant (in Thai- check me!). She just continued to stare. So I went and ate a big bowl of ice cream to cheer myself up.

Squirts kicks are getting less cute and more ouchy by the day. Those ‘beautiful legs’ are certainly getting a work out in there.

My indecisiveness continues. I leave the house and need to pee desperately 30 seconds down the road. WW offers me food, I decline and then become ravenously hungry 3 minutes later.

And here’s another boob moan. I’m sure most of you know a girl whose body you admire/are jealous of. This jealousy become especially bad when you are watching your own body stretch and swell. Try living with that person during that time. This photo is a case in point:

IMG_0290[1]

What? Did a pre-tween move in with us and I neglected to tell you? Nope. That is my wife’s teeny tiny bra, next to my scaffolding. Yes, ma’am.  Hers is the body shape I compare myself to daily. My areolae are not covered by that pathetic excuse for a bra. I think my training bras were more substantial. That gigantic bra is too small for me and I can’t buy a bigger one because the rest of the country is wearing WW’s size. Excuse me while I plunge into a pit of deep depression and boob ache.

Heartburn. Ooof. Every evening I worry I might drown in my own angry stomach acid.

Spots on my chin but dry, flaky fish scales below my lip. Go figure.

Cravings? Cake. Biscuits. Cake. Kellogs Honey Nut Cornflakes. More cake. Also, somewhat surprisingly, salad. Although I think it’s mostly because the ‘I did good’ feeling salad gives me combats the guilt later when I stuff an enormous wedge of cake down my gullet later.

Anyhoo, it’s almost time for the ‘last day of holidays’ treat. What fun activities can a pregnant lady do in Bangkok in the hot season? Eat, of course. We’ve booked ourselves into a fancy hotel for a fancy buffet lunch. Yum yum.

TTFN X

 

 

 

*I googled ‘pregnant lesbian Bangkok’ yesterday to see if people would be able to locate my ramblings, should they so desire. They can, but they’d have to scan through 3 pages of XXX por.n to find me. And really, how often to people make it past the first page of google search results? Who knew that pregnant lesbians were such a turn on for the por.n hungry masses?

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The bureaucrats are out to get me….or I’m feeling a touch hormonal.

Hello everyone!

So first some non-pregnancy related moaning, forgive me.

I’ve been waiting for a while to deal with Thai immigration and finally transfer my visa over to my new named passport. Partly I have been putting this off because it is a massive ball-ache and partly because I was waiting for the holidays so I wouldn’t have to take more time off. This is my third school in Thailand and so my third attempt at doing anything visa related. Every time there is a new problem. Some piece of paperwork they suddenly need or no longer accept. I threaten wrinkles and gray hairs arguing with officers and agents on each occasion.

To complicate matters further the ongoing political unrest here has forced the usual venue to close and the immigration department to relocate to a dodgy mall on one of the worst streets for traffic. Terrific.

We arrived there at 10.30 am, the opening time, the first day. I parked in a sketchy car park, nervously negotiated through the gangstery ‘red shirts’ main base, helpfully located right next door to the new offices and picked our way through hundreds of pretty poor Asian immigrants to find the ‘teacher’ counter. My queue number was 48, they were at 7 and moving veeeerrrrryyyy slowly.

My school had organized my paperwork for me. Just as well as a lot of the documents involved are written in Thai and I wouldn’t have the first clue. As we waited it became apparent most people did not have any help and each applicant sat at the desk with the officers for upwards of 15 minutes, having things explained, making photocopies and locating missing paperwork. 3 hours later I was seen and quickly informed I was missing a document from my embassy stating I had cancelled my old passport.

So…

  • one hour taxi ride to UK embassy. Closed to my request in the afternoon. Joy.
  • Get up at 5.15am the next day, 2 hour car ride, go to embassy. Get paper but am forewarned immigration might need another paper which costs 50 GBP. Decide to risk it to try to save money.
  • Get to Thai immigration. Given queue number 148. Currently at 65.
  • Wait for an hour and a half. Queue currently 78.
  • Stick belly out and plead case to same officer from previous day. Told to sit back down.
  • After 20 minutes of pleading eye contact officer secretly takes paperwork.
  • 20 more minutes until she opens paperwork and begins to process.
  • 20 minutes until she hands to boss to check. Success, hooray!
  • Proceed to another counter, wait 2 more hours and attain a re-entry permit. 6pm and done.

Absolute nightmare. And the worse thing is all teachers have to go through something similar every year we work here. And as we’re nearing the end of the academic year I have to do it again in May. I am hoping I’ll be so huge by then I’ll take my queue jumping skills to new heights.

After all my crap was done it was soon time to start WW’s as part of the ‘Great Thai baby Escape’. That was similarly awful:

  • get up at 4.45 for 7.30am appointment. Traffic surprisingly light due to local holiday.
  • arrive at destination, park, go in only to be told the offices moved two weeks previously.
  • Set off for new destination. Park in car park. Get stuck in lift as we don’t have the resident’s key card. Get saved by people on the ground floor.
  • Get to offices at 7.30am. Told they actually open at 8.30.
  • WW returns to offices at 8.15.
  • Informed at 8.30 they have to process a bunch of monks before anyone is allowed in.
  • WW called inside to queue at 8.50.
  • WW seen for paperwork collection at 9,30
  • WW returns to a grumpy me with a numb arse and air conditioning chill at 9.40.
  • Saw that WW’s agent was named Titiporn, cracked the first smile of the day.

So now we start a different kind of two week wait, holding our breath and crossing our fingers that we are going to be allowed to have this baby in the UK. I will commence my own version of early POAS in a week in the hope that things might move quickly than they’re supposed to, for a change.

And now- baby news 🙂

Somewhere in the midst of all this was our 6 month ultrasound. I am pleased to report I only gained half a kilo in the last month. I used an website to calculate my expected weight gain based on height, previous weight and bmi and I am in the high end of normal. Like most of my internet based research this finding fits with what I want so I’m going to take it as gospel.

My urine diabetes test came back negative and my blood pressure was normal. Yay.

During the ultrasound Dr. Porn was less into translating, despite WW asking for him to speak in English but I was able to follow along well enough. ‘Bokatid’ meaning ‘normal’ was the term most commonly used. He looked more closely at the heart chambers and showed us everything was working as it should. I got mildly chastised for eating lunch an hour before and cause Squirt to go into a food coma with his knees pressed into his face and feet above his head, meaning we didn’t get the clearest 4D alien face shots again. Oops. Dr Porn again complimented his long, pretty legs. Everything was good. He said Squirt is a large baby, but I am a large woman so I should be OK at the birth. Gulp.

It was the first time I’ve been able to feet Squirt kicking me and watch it on the ultrasound monitor, which was pretty special. His kicks are very strong now, rocking my belly and often waking me up during the night. I am also peeing every couple of hours so afternoon naps have been back on the schedule.

I started watching a virus-outbreak-end-of-the-world series called Helix and then woke up with the same red, scaly eye sockets as the infected patients…. but am trying not to think too much of it.

I have officially outgrown the largest bras in Bangkok (38 DD, if you’re interested- you nosy buggers). Even the Marks n Sparks granny bras can’t help me now. I am struggling on, (in and a little out) with the aid of elasticated maternity tops which hold things where they are supposed to be, kind of. My poor boobs are left with angry red bra indents all over at the end of the day, plus a sexy heat rash in my cleavage, just to add insult to injury.

Heat. 35 oC, 95oF and 50% humidity. That’s all I can bear to say on the matter. Plus that garbage dump fire seems to have reignited this morning. What the hell am I doing here?

I can’t stop eating cakes. Seriously. And the doctor didn’t tell me off so I feel like I can get away with it again. Help, someone relocate and reinstall my self control. Quick, before I completely spill out of my bra.

Um…. oh, we also had a wee trip to K.L., which was nice. When we arrived I was saved from an hours long cue by a security/immigration lady who spotted my puppy eyes and deliberately pushed out bump and whisked us to the front, shouting ‘Pregnant! Pregnant!’ like there was a fire.

I pretty much just ate my way through our days in the city, there wasn’t really loads else for a pregnant lady to do. We walked a lot too, which hopefully combated the fact that I had been eating muffins for breakfast at our hotel buffet. It’s a nice, open city. Not at all smelly, cramped and dirty like Bangkok. With actual, walkable pavements, again unlike Bangkok. It was slightly cooler that BKK but very humid and we spent a lot of time ducking in and out of the many malls for a bit of air con. Bangkok has them beat on bathrooms though. Even the newest, fanciest designers malls had minging, dirty bathrooms. Some had full time maids in there and still they were smelly and soaking wet. I have no idea why. I also missed the Bangkok taxis. We refused to pay the rip off rates and so wound up doing a little more walking that I would have liked to. All in all, it was nice to come home again.

Well I think that’s all for now…again there doesn’t seem to be a lot of pregnancy news on this pregnancy blog but that’s because it’s all been (touch wood) quite pleasant and easy recently. I even uttered the phrase ‘I could do this again.’ yesterday, which I couldn’t have said in December. Then WW pointed out I haven’t given birth yet, so I might yet rescind that statement.

Anyways, health and happiness to you all and happy Songkran (Thai New Year, the worlds greatest water fight- I’m currently battling with WW to let me go out and play)!

TTFN X

PS. Ultrasound pics after the jump.

 

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