Whoooo hooo - third trimester! There are just 13 weeks to go until Baby J is due to make his appearance. This does not terrify me in the slightest - something that makes me some what of an oddity in the world of pregnant people. Ok it's going to be painful and probably long and probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life - but giving birth for me spells the end of this damn sicky feeling. It will hopefully mean that I can eat garlic again, and chicken, and spicy things and brown bread, and it means that hopefully I won't have to worry that every time I eat something just a tiny bit different that I might just see it again an hour later. After nigh on 20 weeks of feeling ill (so far) almost every single day, giving birth will come as a welcome relief - and best of all I get to be a mummy at the end of it.
Baby J is apparently 24 cm long from crown to bottom, 34cm if you uncurl his legs, weighs approximately 2lbs, can open his eyes, suck his thumb and dream. He kicks a lot and has what I have discovered is hiccoughs every now and again (yesterday I thought he/she was having a fit there was that much flayling about going on - but a bit of hypochonria induced googling has led me to the conclusion that it was just hiccoughs - phew!)
Baby J can also hear us talking. I keep trying to coerce Mr Jones into reading stories to the bump or at least engaging it in conversation but he steadfastly refuses to say anything other than "hiya" in an incredibly gay voice. Hmmm. I of course prattle on to it all the time - happy to have a captive audience for my usually internal monologue. Suffice to say it'll probably pop out and tell me to shut it.