Frosty is helping myself get ready to labour! My mother is trying to figure out Frosty’s sex from the shape of my bump, while daddy-to-be Franz has done the sweetest thing ever.

Frosty’s developments

Frosty is allegedly reaching the 2kg (4.4lbs) milestone, and 43cm of length. As I said in my previous posts, while I don’t think my baby is so big (because I’m petite), I can definitely assure you that they’re about to be out of room pretty soon in my oven!

Frosty’s lungs are almost completely mature and ready for their first breath out of the womb, as their glands keep producing a huge amounts of cortisol also in preparation for labour. Well, my labour.

Oven updates

Moved up from last week 49.5kg (109lbs) to 49.9kg (110lbs). Apparently I’m approx 6kg behind the chart pinned on my fridge.

My mother is 100% solid that Frosty is a boy, though she could also swear from the shape of my bump that Frosty is a girl. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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I had another couple of days this week when I touched down 49.3kg again, but managed to recover without doing anything in particular, just eating like it was my last week on Earth.

Managing my image with this big tummy* is still hard at times. While I love the fact that there’s my baby moving (a lot) there, I still sometimes struggle to see the numbers on the scale, my waistline being a former-waistline, and my tummy ballooning. I fight that though, working out at the gym most of the times in top only, and taking selfies with my actual baby/bump framed in there. Still feeling and seeing myself like a whale out of the water, but I’m stronger than my mind tricks.

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Daddy-to-be special edition present

After months of nudging around, Franz has purchased a special item for Frosty. He’d dreamt of getting a special edition whisky of the year our baby would be born, and cherish it until the grown-up baby would be able to drink it with daddy.

So Franz finally bought a Kilchoman Distillery Long Gorm 2019 edition, a peaty whisky that will be opened in 2037 with Frosty.

I asked Franz if I could snag a picture of him and the whisky for the blog, and he gently refused as this is a private thing for him. I think this is extremely sweet and considerate, and also an example of why I love this man so much.

Antenatal classes, here we go!

Next Monday Franz and I will start our series of antenatal appointments at the Royal Berkshire Hospital. I’ve done my homework about this sort of classes, and I hope I won’t be disappointed.

I hope to get practical information about our life with a newborn: I’ve never held a newborn in my life, so I have no clue about changing a nappy, or how to keep a little human alive! While I guess the instinct will kick in at some point, having some hints and tips on how to figure everything out will be so useful and reassuring.

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*perspectives are so different among humans: lots of people–waitresses, friends, clerks, colleagues etc–would never bet a penny I’m 8 months pregnant. They all said I look like a 5/6 months preggo tops. Yet, what I see through the filter of my eyes is a gigantic, bloated Stef with a gigantic belly. I love this bump with every cell of my body only because there’s my baby kicking hard in there.