So far, all of my friends have been amazingly generous with advice & offers of assistance, which really is quite wonderful.   Thank you to everyone!
The one solid piece of advice that keeps appearing, however, is sleep.  "Sleep all you can", they say.  "Once you are on the other side, sleep is like a mirage in the desert"...  

Last night we got a sneak preview into the world of baby-induced sleep deprivation, and it wasn't a lot of fun.  Meg woke up in the middle of the morning, and me soon after - I couldn't help but be a little impressed at how strong our little baby is!  After that, though, it was an hour of wishing he'd go back to sleep, followed by two hours of wishing I'd go back to sleep.  

So obviously I won't be able to 'know' just how truly terrible it really is yet, but I'm getting the idea.  The fact that everyone has been telling me this one same thing must make it pretty important...

 
 
Recently I've been in contact with a few friends who have had babies in the past couple of years, and the advice they've given is, well, pretty frightening...  

http://www.essentialbaby.com.au/birth/after-birth/the-truth-about-life-with-a-newborn-20130517-2jqbk.html#utm_source=FD&utm_medium=lifeandstylepuff&utm_campaign=lifewithnewborn

This article was sent to me which seems to be saying some of the same kind of things that my friends have said.  It's a terrifying slap back into the real world, well worth a read.  

 
 
PicturePaparazzi, Esda Shangri-La
The eternal battle between a pregnant woman's emotions and reality reared it's cryptic and perplexing head just the other night.  With the pregnancy I expected some emotional flares, and there has been.  This time though, it seemed a little different.  
We were at a restaurant with my parents, they were due to leave the following day so we took them to a favourite place of ours, where the staff know our name and the Italian chef comes out to our table, preparing bespoke meals for us in his modern yet charmingly traditional way.  
In the light fitting above our table we noticed the bodies of two dead flies, laying side by side.  To me, the sight of two dead flies was inconsequential: they were flies, and they were dead.  To Megan, however, the sight of these two represented a tragic narrative of young love, two promising lives taken all too early.  Somewhere, there were two little fly families in mourning, torn apart by the senseless loss of their children.  These flies had lives, they had personalities and dreams...  They were Romeo and Juliet.  Cleopatra and Mark Antony.  Pyramus and Thisbe.  
Meg was just short of bursting into tears as we waited for our entrees.  My attempts to provide solace were, and still are, useless.  I tried to reason that back home there are countless fly bodies littering the bottoms of light fittings everywhere - I even tried to lighten the mood by saying that these were part of some strange fly suicide cult.  It didn't work.  Mass fly graves were commonplace and didn't warrant emotion (even though they could've been attempts at fly genocide by fly dictators or fly warlords), but just two little fly bodies - that created a bleak, despondent picture of heartbreak & mourning... 
The woeful tale of the two flies still brings grief.  One day we'll look back and laugh, but not soon - and probably not for at least three more months...

 
 
Picture
Recently we have started to notice a new rebellious streak emerging in our first little one.  I'm certain that he senses a change happening in the household.  It's much more than the usual mischief that he's known for; Bruce is starting to push the boundaries that we've set down for him.  He has started to destroy a few of his old toys, and to jump up onto tables & chairs that he's never jumped on before.  Of course this isn't totally earth-shatteringly bad: a few old toys don't really matter too much.  Climbing on the furniture is a bit worse though - a bit of our already-limited storage space is now unusable - the lower level of our change station & our coffee tables are now open for Bruce to chew everything stored there.  
Just this morning while we were taking our morning coffee, Brucey was running around as he usually does, but instead of just sliding around the floor, he leaps up onto the top of our coffee table.  I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to, and I think he was more surprised than the rest of us, but now that he knows he can do it, he'll be up there all the time!
It makes me worry about how he'll react to how the baby will affect our little home.  Previously I had given him a lot of faith that he'd be a great big brother, becoming caring & protective of our new addition, but now I worry that he'll miss the attention that we've piled upon him.  He's already started to withdraw a little, as if to say that he doesn't need us...  And yet sometimes he is the most cuddly little sook in the world....  
I still have confidence that he'll love our new addition when he/she arrives, but I do wonder about what will happen during the transitional phase.  Watch this space for updates of all the fun stuff that Brucey gets up to over the next few months...

 
 
Ok, so it's not quite disaster, but it is quite a timely (and incredibly painful) reminder that I'm not invincible anymore...  

Last night I was forced to leave rugby training a little early due to an ankle injury which saw me taken to hospital & a cast put on my leg.  It also saw Meg & my mother drag themselves to the hospital at 10 pm (Meg had only finished work at 9), which didn't go down overly well....
What it does mean, however, is that I'll be around a lot more now, at least for the next couple of weeks.  It'll also mean that I'll be treating myself a bit more delicately now - I'd hate for Meg to have to look after two babies at the same time!  After all, I'd be almost completely useless with a baby now...  Moving around on crutches is not something I've ever had to worry about before now, and even though it's quite temporary (fingers crossed), but I'm now very dependent on others and taking care of someone else is totally out of the question.  
The solution?  Well, one obvious answer would be to eliminate the cause, but let's be reasonable, that's probably not going to happen for a little while...  There's threat-minimization, but doing things half-hearted often leads to more injuries.  There's also hoping like crazy that something isolated like this won't happen again - which, let's be honest, has always been my most likely course of action with these things...  

So in the last months of our pregnancy, here's hoping that nothing bad happens...
 
 
PictureSome of our new (and not so new) toys
Well, finally we have passed the 100 days-to-go mark!  Which of course doesn't mean things are any easier at all - in fact, they've become much harder.  Tiredness is starting to creep back into Meg's daily life, the weather is heating up and the baby is getting heavier by the day.  
The positive side is that we're so much closer to getting our little boy/girl & meeting them for the first time.  The 100 days thing isn't quite an exact science, but it's the small milestones that help us get over the daily hurdles we still face.  

Over the past week we've been playing hosts to my parents this time, and they've come through with the goods again - more stuff for baby (and a little for us).  Our focus has already shifted a little from newborn to a little bigger...  I think we've now covered the baby clothes for the first little while - after all, our little one won't be very little for too long...  They also brought with them some of the toys that I had when I was a baby (thoroughly washed, of course), which I didn't know still existed!  
It's been great to have them here (apart from all the gifts) to get a fresh set of eyes on some of the issues we're facing.  The differing opinions and view points definitely make for refreshing conversation, and they've helped to quell a few fears we'd had that our pregnancy wasn't normal.  We are still, however, no closer to choosing a name...