the itchy bean

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im expanding!!! eeeeeek

and of course, with growth comes stretching and that makes me one itchy mummy.

Time to bust out the bio oil (and perhaps even the adult mittens)

 

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the after dinner bean

noodlebox2

For all that know me, know that I am a lover of all things noodles. So after a lovely afternoon botanical gardens walk with my sister, we decided to grab some noodles for dinner. On a mission for some serious asian deliciousness, we sat down at the table and tucked in . . .  within a couple of yummy mouthfuls it was clear that bean didn’t share my love for a mild hot box, dammnit!

I looked down and there it was, the almighty after dinner bean.

I was absolutely HUGE and becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the minute. Think, hungry hungry hippo . . .

Thanks little bean, no more noodles for mummy for the next 6 months

the sneaky bean

surprise

I, like many women out there, am a sufferer of PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and have been since the age of 19. I spent many years, on and off, dealing with the inconvenient symptoms this condition has thrown my way, such as long periods of no ovulation creating many small cysts to form within the walls of my ovaries, sudden and crippling cramps of death, excessive hair growth, major fluctuations in weight, crazy hormones . . . the list goes on. Despite all of these lovely symptoms, the one thing I found hard to deal with was the knowledge that becoming a mum may one day be a struggle for me, and there were times where this torment would loom over me like only the unknown can.

Over the past few months, I have noticed the ever familiar symptoms of my old friend PCOS come lurking back in, mainly fatigue, irregular/non-existant menstrual cycle and strange weight gain. After a trip to my GP we agreed that it was due time to take a little look at my PCOS and refresh my management plan. A tonne of blood work later, I wandered into the radiologist to take a little look at my old buddies, my ovaries.

Just another day, just another appointment. I plonked myself up onto the table, my bladder full to the brim, the trainee radiologist sitting beside me, her fresh nervous face beaming, armed and ready with the tube of goob. As the probe touched my skin it was suddenly very clear just what was going on inside . . . up on the screen lay the most perfect little picture, the outline of a tiny little baby, wriggling and dancing around as she ran the probe over my belly. I looked up at the young girl, my mouth wide open in utter shock, in all honesty she looked just as bewildered. After we shared a few silent moments of awe, staring up at the screen, she simply looked at me and said “does that look like a baby to you? I don’t really do THESE kinds of ultrasounds, I think I should go grab someone to help” before I could respond she dashed out of the room like a ninja.

2 technicians and a whole lot of prodding and measuring later, it was slowly sinking in that I was going to be a mummy, and that my sneaky little bean had been there for 12 weeks and 3 days, flying under the radar just waiting to be discovered.

“SURPRISE MUMMY”

such a sneaky, sneaky bean!