Week 37, Day 3 (Patience is a virgin)

(That's one of my family's weird little sayings.. it's funny to see people's delayed reactions when they realise what you really said)

Theory is just wonderful. Theory also sucks.

In theory, this kid isn't due until 6th October, that's 18 sleeps away.

• Eighteen nights of burning reflux.

In theory, this kid might take after his mother and have to be induced at two weeks overdue.

• (Goodness knows how much longer I might have stayed on if they hadn't been firm with me)

In theory, the most common reason for a large baby (from the medical viewpoint) is maternal diabetes.

• Never mind that I've tested negative every step of the way. My midwife is satisfied it's just genetics and healthy living, but after our scan tomorrow if baby is still in the 97th centile, then I'm to see the hospital obstetrician who will apparently order more blood tests to rule out gestational diabetes. Apparently I can expect a return of that awful fasting three-blood test. (yipee)

In theory, I should be drinking 2-3 cups a day of Raspberry Leaf tea.

• Except I hate the stuff, and have to be quite firm with my stomach to prevent the trampoline effect (what goes down, can also go up). But the good news is that *apparently* you can get the stuff in tablet format. I'll see if I can hunt some up tomorrow!

On a less chagrined note, I'll talk about pinpricks of a different type altogether ;-)

For years and years I wanted a tattoo, but worried that I'd wimp out at the start due to my horror of needles. Then one day after another raft of invasive tests at Chch Womens (to find out why I kept dropping my pregnancies - they never did work it out, btw), they stuffed up with the planned blood test at the end of it all, and told me to go home and come back another day.

Thing is, my doctor had given me two valium tablets to take ten minutes before the blood test, and not realising they were going to cancel, I'd dry-swallowed them in readiness.

What to do.. what to do.. ah well, can't waste a good thing ;-)

I rang the tattoo parlour (then-hubby had wanted one as well, so we'd already decided in theory what we would have, and who was the cleanest/best) and as luck turned out, he had a vacancy.

Down I tripped, pointed to a unicorn on the wall, requested it in blue, then sat in the chair, grinning like an idiot.

Oh... you want my shirt off? Yeah I suppose that's a good idea... dum de dum... Good thing I put on a clean, newish bra, eh?

I felt Steve clean the area with alcohol (ooh tickles) then felt him draw the design on, and after a moment heard a sound just like a dentist's drill.

"That sounds just like a drill" I giggled. "Don't forget to tell me when you start, okay?"

"Shut up Karl, and keep still" he reproved, "unless you want a crooked tat! I started ages ago."

Some time later he finished, and the most painful bit was when he did the top of the shoulder where I don't have a lot of meat over the joint. Not as bad as you'd think though - more like moderate sunburn with someone poking it.

I planned to return and get a really funky pirate on my left shoulder blade (to balance the unicorn on my right) but then-husband pinched it for his arm, saying it wasn't right for a woman. Buggerit..

He then went on to have a really naff sea scape with a sailing ship in full colour on his other arm (no danger of pinching that one from me - who'd want the nautical equivalent of a 70's velvet painting on your bicep??)

Btw, when we divorced, he blamed me for his two tattoos, saying he was thinking of having them removed. (No, I didn't ask for custody of the pirate! Eww..)

Anyhoo, tats are not Wayne's thing, but some years ago he did suggest getting Celtic armbands instead of wedding rings when we handfasted. I'm still all for the idea, but he's gone off it, apparently.

Sheesh.. and they say WOMEN can't make up their minds ;-) At least he rethought it before and not after, LOL!

He's dead against my long held desire for a nose stud, and isn't 100% happy about my wanting to get tattoo #2 either. However I have now decided what #2 is going to be, and he can't easily object (well he can't object at all, really, being that it's my bod and I'm no one's "Little Woman", but there are things you compromise over for peace, eh).

After baby's born, I want to get his birth footprints outlined on my body, permanently. Just where, I'm not sure.. possibly on the hip he's so fond of kicking, or over the previously broken ribs he's also had great fun with.

Then at some future point, I want to get that shoulder blade misalignment fixed, by putting a lovely big dragon on the left blade. A very Anne McCaffrey type dragon, preferably Mnementh in all his bronze glory.

I'll probably stop there ;-) Well.. we'll see...