I get to see more and more movement from the outside as the Bean wriggles around in his wee 1-bedder. I was hoping to film some exciting bulges and ripples last night, but he must have sensed the camera through layers of skin and muscle, and decided that he wasn't going to play at his usual time. Obstreperous. Just like his mother father. Never mind, I'll catch him one day.
I have to admit that I still don't feel very emotionally invested in the Bean. That's not to say I wouldn't be devastated by a stillbirth at this stage, but I do wonder how much of that devastation would be due to missing out on the little person that I've spent the last 7 months looking after, and how much would be along the lines of "All that work for nothing!!". It sounds horribly callous when I write it like that, but I'm trying to be honest here. Simply put though, I've never met the guy - from my point of view, he's the source of nausea, reflux, constant internal prodding and sleepless nights. I'm still waiting for the good bits to happen. And yes, I do worry that it won't be love at first sight when B-day comes, but from what I've read and heard, it isn't always that anyway. And I'm not even considering post-natal depression at this point, either.
And I really do resent people telling me how much I'll love him, and how I should be planning the next one already, and how good I should feel in this part of the pregnancy. I hope I *will* love him desperately; his only-childhood-ness or not is nobody's business but mine and hubby's; and I'm sorry to say that there's very little about the experience of pregnancy which would tempt me to do it a second time. No, not even this part of it.
Enough said. I'm taking grumpy hormones offline before they get me into any more trouble.
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