8 months = Cankles for Ankles

Eight months pregnant give or take a few days with Cankles for Ankles. By the end of each day my poor, swollen cankles are sore and itchy, they feel squidgy and unhealth and look entirely unattractive.

I blame them on my less than enjoyable workplace environment when I sit for hours on end at the desk, no longer needing to run here, there or everywhere to accomplish imaginative feats of marketing prowess - restricted to desk duties and frankly, not enough of them to keep me busy.

I have also noticed an enormous change to my flexibility over the past few weeks, putting shoes and socks on takes some effort, getting in and out of bed requires a great deal of effort to minimise the strain to my lower back and even relaxing on the lounge of an evening is no longer an option. I suppose it doesn't help that we have a hard wood bench of a lounge, void of any padding to soften the experience.

On a brighter note - the English Football Season 07/08 has just commenced and there are exactly 380 games - all being covered LIVE on Showsports TV. Excellent news! In the first week alone I have watched no less than three games, the only one of note being the Reading v Man U game which resulted in a nill all draw and 1 valuable point for Reading on the League Ladder. Yay!

I have also hopefully untangled the tussle I've been having with the doctor as to when my actual due date is ... we've been told to go by the 1st ultrasound at 12 weeks - which suggests 11 September. They seem to have added another 12 days to that. I DON'T THINK SO! Assuming we are running late (as first babies tend to do) I am not waiting until the end of September to be induced. Imagine how big the poor mite's head would be then. No way!

I have my coping mechanisms firmly set around a specific timeframe of 12th Sept (giving a day here) + 7 days = 17th September if I need to be induced and not a moment longer.

Having been pregnant for the entire year already it's all I can offer I'm afraid before going completely insane from the experience. Though I have been a little worried that my bump is too small for our dates. Compounded stress after reading another smattering of birth stories and checking out even more photo's of very large American Blog Women whose bumps (and butts etc for that matter) appear considerably bigger than mine.

I also check out all the Indian and Arabic ladies in the waiting room between medical appointments and they are huge in the centre, compared to my bump. I keep being told it's because I am considered taller (one benefit of ME/Indian culture 5 foot 7 inches is considered tall) that my bump appears smaller.

I've been eating more (mainly chips) to try and increase the bump size and feel a bit better about the whole thing!

7 Months and Growing

It seems my enormous appetite in the past two weeks (yet another series of days where I can't get enough food and must eat every two hours) has produced another growth spurt and I now officially feel increasingly like a fat slug.

My enjoyment of the changes my body is experiencing during pregnancy continues to reduce as my levels of disgust at such common aliments as swollen ankles, sore back, slight shortness of breath, lack of energy, milk udder boobs etc continues to grow.

To add insult to injury Rob on the other hand has been exercising like a man possessed and looks like a slim and fit 20 something guy....


Given I've also been so bored at work the past few months - one client is just not enough to keep the hours rolling by, especially after being used to over-worked, under-staffed consultancy life, allows me to dwell even further on the interminable length of a nine month pregnancy.


Which has also afforded me plenty of time to emerge myself in the horrors of childbirth as authored by online blogging mothers. These women generously provide extremely graphic details of 'real-life' labor and childbirth stories that leave hairs standing up on my head. Besides the obvious voyoristic appeal of getting a glimpse into strangers lives via well maintained blogs I'm working on the theory that provided I read every possible horror story in the world, our birth experience could not possibly be as bad as all of those put together - so will therefore leave me feeling like it wasn't as bad as it could have been once it's all over. Rob is of the opinion I should stop scaring myself with all these modern-day horror stories but I can't help it.


I am also getting a sick sense of enjoyment at finding photos of all these mid-west american mothers-to-be who post pictures of their pregnant bellies at various stages of growth on the web. I especially like the ones of the women who look WAY BIGGER than me.

I know - seek help immediately.


Raylee and Barry last week air freighted over to Dubai our Australian Safety approved car seat which arrived at Emirates Air Freight express this week. And promoted me to have a dream the other day that we also collected our baby from Emirates Air Freight Express - clearly my preferred child birth option.


After much research and debate between Rob and I - and comments from him such as - well I don't see why the British Standard Child Capsule sold in Dubai won't be good enough, I was able to demonstrate the added saftey of the anchor points and five point child restraint, over a simple seatbelt threaded through the capsule base - and when he considered this in light of the clear speed demon madness we experience daily on the Dubai roads, we came to the decision that the Australian Safetly Standard capsule it was to be.

Which brings us to the next issue of a name. It seems 'no name' it will be if we don't make a decision soon. So in typical style, our decision to not make a decision until our backs are up against the wall and he's been born seems to be the most appealing option right now.


We currently have four names on the go - Aston for obvious reason's - it was the first name we loved - Samuel for a more mainstream name - Aden for a name representative of the region he'll be born - and Ari because we like the sound of it, although we don't like it's overwhelming link to religion. Though you could say the same for Samuel I suppose.

Proud Uncles to Be

Two wonderful men about to be Uncles to the coolest kid in the world

No-Name hits his sixth month

Yep, officially six months pregnant. 28 Weeks. 3rd Trimester.

Fantastic I say. The heartburn has disappeared much to my utter amazement and joy - my appetite has increased and the stomach has grown, and grown, and grown. I look positively huge now. How I imagine I should look closer to the 7th or 8th month ... but according to friends and internet research, it seems I've been slightly underestimating exactly how large, large will be over the remaining 12 weeks.

And I don't like the look of it at all. I'll definately need to start using the Coco Butter more frequently than the thrice only attempts since falling pregnant. Congratulating myself on the soft, supple skin, not a sign of a stretch mark (touch wood). Little did I know I am set to double in size again between now and September. One scary encounter with the unknown last Thursday when I had two episodes - about 5 minutes apart and lasting for about 3 minutes each where I felt like my lungs were being choked - could not breath easily and felt my rib cage was being squeezed down from the inside. After some serious google searching (I LOVE the internet) we worked out it was probably a head or a foot or a hand pressing on my lungs and ribcage. Excellent experience. One I can't wait to repeat.

What's in a Name

Rob and I had agreed straight away on a name for a baby girl - Asha May - really pretty name and somewhat relevant to the region that she would have been born in ... Only problem is we're having a boy and who would have thought coming up with the right name, that feels right, fits right, looks right would be so friggin hard.

A long list of names i loved by Rob hated - Eiden (He will be born during Ramadan after all), Arkie (it was good enough for the Body), Leo/Levi (Rob's not having his son named after an American brand of jeans and I can't blame him) we're shall we say a little stuck.

Rob LOVES and I mean LOVES Aston ... as it Martin, with his tenuous english connection to James Bond 007. And I like it because he loves it, and it's unusual and most importantly MEANS SOMETHING to Rob. As an adult, Aston sounds cool. I'm just a little worried about the 10 years between 5 and 15. Will he get called Arse or Asto or Arso at school. Considering his schooling will most likely be in Sydney, do we need to fork out for the poshest school on the block just so the kids are not going to be encouraged to give him a razz for his name ... or do we teach him the art of streetfighting at a very young age so he can stand behind the name without regret.

In a complete u-turn we do like Tomas ... but every other child it seems is being named Thomas at the moment so urk. We also don't mind Art or more specifically Art Aston Dales ... I think it has a nice ring to it. Well in a few months we'll know I suppose.

25 Weeks with Syria Belly

We've now added Syria belly to our pregnancy experience. After deciding it would be a great idea to catch a short break before the baby is born (15 weeks and counting) we jetted off to Damascus in Syria for a four day weekend.

Ill, doesn't quiet explain how I've felt in the 14 days since we've returned. I have lost almost 2kg since my last weigh in a month ago - however this doesn't appear to be a concern, while ever the baby keeps growing. Which he is! As the carrier I rate scantly on the care factor chart provided the cargo is kept healthy. Which really is all that's important to us as well.

Despite the image attached Syria was a hoot, not the axis of evil the western worlds proclaim but a poor, hardworking nation ... without any oil. People live on just a few dollars a day and the city of Damascus, which is 4000 years old ... felt every inch as old as it is. People live in the most condemed buildings you can possibly imagine, that if you squint, you can maybe glimpse an element of the french inspired architecture in their design.

The people were lovely. SO friendly and interested in us ... though not many people we spoke to had heard of Australia, and others kept confusing it for Austria.

We've been invited back by the Hotel Driver to have our baby christened in the oldest church in Damascus - we have his card and just need to call him to organise it all apparently.

Rob, not particularly familar with religion, did not look all that interested. And the thought of having to go into another convent/church/old relic building whether it be now, or in 15 weeks, I could see really didn't appeal. Especially after our two days driving around Ma'Lula and Palymra ... via visits to three separate convents, it seems to have been enough for him.

Back in Dubai and the beginings of heart-burn starting to affect my sense of well being as well. I am not one of these mother earth women, blossoming in the joys of pregnancy. I'm really not enjoying what it does to my body, and with the onset of digestive disaster in the past two weeks, suspect the next three months will be SO NOT FUN.

Dont' get me wrong, I am always relieved to feel our baby kicking and prodding me, and hope for the very best for him, hope he is healthy... that he doesn't have my deaf ears or his dad's bad eyes, and that for all my wild ways and recent efforts to control, moderate and monitor my behaviour in the past 5 months, I haven't left it too late and he will not suffer any effects of what has to be the world's most undisciplined mother to be.