Today has been the least pleasant day so far in an otherwise rather nice pregnancy. I haven't stopped feeling ill all day - I'm not sure if it's indigestion, gas, too much chocolate, or the as-yet-un-felt "morning sickness", or possibly a bit of all of them. I've been extremely tired, as I didn't sleep last night due to feeling ill (see above) and being kicked. And then tonight (during childbirth education classes at the hospital) I had another of my little hot-flush blurred-vision episodes.

I'm thinking of cutting back my hours at work, if the boss will let me, and considering stopping work entirely earlier than originally anticipated, but I just don't know. I feel a bit guilty; work is so busy right now, and I'm the only full-time staff member who can do my job properly. It makes it quite difficult when my immediate boss is telling me to look after my body and my baby and take time off, while my own conscience says that I need to be at work. I guess I'll figure it out in time... but if I still feel like this tomorrow I'm taking the day off.

Anzac Day is yet another occasion on which I feel at odds with everybody. It's such a big deal here, commemorating our fallen soldiers and stuff. I understand intellectually that a bunch of guys went to some shitty places and experienced some shitty things, and loads of them got killed, and that if they hadn't the world would now be a very different place. But honestly, emotionally, I don't really care. It all happened long before I was born, in places I've never been, to people I never knew. All I feel is slightly uncomfortable and guilty at not feeling anything more. I feel like the media and my fellow Australians are trying to manipulate me to care, but I don't understand their purpose in doing so. I feel like a complete outsider, an alien, almost a criminal. Especially here in Canberra, where it's practically blasphemy not to go to the Dawn Service. I slept until 10, so there. Fuck it.

For those of you I don't have on Facebook, and those of you who haven't gotten around to looking yet, here is my beautiful baby Elspeth during her 3D ultrasound on Saturday:

Rant time.

I took the 980 bus to work today, as is usual when I work on Saturdays at the University of Canberra (my second job). Fine. I got there, and the woman who usually co-ordinates everything was away, leaving some other people in her place. They didn't know I was coming, so they didn't have anything ready for me. So they mucked about getting that done, and that was a minor irritation.

Then I had to go home. I caught the 980 bus again, which worked fine last time and got me home safely. But this time, for reasons unknown to me, the 980 became the 932 when it passed through the city, and thus took a different route. By the time I realised we weren't going to take the right turnoff, we were past it and in unknown territory. So I asked the bus driver the best way to get to Kingston from there. He told me to stay on that bus until we got to Woden, and then take the 938. But when we got to Woden, the 938 had just left, so he told me to take the 900 into the city and then the 938 going back the other way to Kingston.
In short, it took me over two hours to get home, when it should take 45 minutes, and I visited nearly every god damned suburb in this god forsaken town on the way.

Nothing is easy here. Nothing just works, nothing is logical or simple or intuitive. We have found this time and again, in all sorts of situations. This town doesn't make sense, and I want to go home.

Today was the 28 week midwife visit, primarily to have my injection of Anti-D.

Here I am this morning:


And today's details are as follows:

Fundal height: 28cm (the size of the uterus, used to assess foetal growth and development) - this is perfect for this stage of pregnancy.
Foetal heart rate: 148 - also normal.
Edinburgh Depression Scale: 9 - apparently anything over 12 requires referral to Mental Health, so I'm still good!
Glucose Load: 6.3 - I have no idea what this actually measures, or what units that 6.3 should be expressed in. But apparently it's within the normal range and I don't have gestational diabetes.

So everything is going well, which is good to know. I figure, anyway, that as long as I can still feel Elspeth kicking away like crazy and there's no abdominal cramping or bleeding, she'll be right!

I see in the news today that a Melbourne train driver has attacked a passenger after the passenger approached him to complain about a cancelled train. My first thought is, the passenger should have used proper channels to make a complaint; it very likely has nothing to do with the driver concerned. In a way I don't blame the driver for snapping: working for Connex recently must have made him very unpopular, subject to countless criticisms and the butt of a hundred jokes. The company has not been faring well lately and it is not his fault, yet, as the person seen representing the company, he cops the blame from thousands of commuters each day. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone violence or the attack itself. All I'm saying is that I can understand the urge to hit back - literally - at the complainant!

I don't usually blog from work. I have more important things to do, like work. Goodness knows there's no shortage of it. But today, nothing is going right. It's just so frustrating, I need this little "time out" to rant and rave!! Things have disappeared, things haven't been done correctly, things have been put in the wrong places, and things are pissing me off! I feel like I've spent half my day so far searching for things that aren't where they should be, or, apparently, anywhere at all. I thought today was going to be so productive and awesome, I had it all planned out... instead, I have two half-finished things on my desk, waiting on (hopefully) some missing things to turn up, or new copies to be provided. So not only did I not catch up at all, I've actually fallen further behind than I was!

For the record, the shortness of breath/hot flush/blurred vision thing happened again this morning. Passed reasonably quickly, felt fine afterwards, didn't see a doctor this time.

Thanks to little Elspeth and her antenatal acrobatics, I scarcely slept last night. And when I did manage to get some shuteye, it was only REM sleep and I dreamed of work. So now I feel like I've been at work all night, and I just got up to go to work again!

I have no more to add. It's been a long week, even though I only worked three days.

24 weeks

Had an incident this morning. I was on the bus going to work as usual, when I suddenly felt hot, sweaty, and short of breath. It wasn't long before my vision started to blur, then disappear completely. I was nowhere near passing out; I didn't feel faint, I just couldn't see anything. Happily a colleague was on the same bus, and saw me looking weird; she helped me get up and walk to the office, by which time my vision had returned... temporarily. Within about ten minutes of getting to work, it happened again. So, my boss drove me to the hosiptal. After waiting a good two hours or so in Emergency (which is fine, I was hardly dying), the doctor poked and prodded me, then told me it was more or less normal: hormonal and blood pressure changes associated with pregnancy. Well, that's what he thinks based on one isolated incident. Essentially, little Elspeth is getting selfish, claiming all my resources and leaving me short.

So anyway, I'm feeling ok now, I'm at home and will not be going to work again until at least Wednesday. I am forbidden (by Doctor Aidan) to do anything strenuous or worry about anything, so after I've published this post and finished my lunch, I'll be having a quick shower then going back to bed.

Thanks again to Alice (the colleague on the bus), MaryLou (the boss who drove me to hospital and sat with me a while), Nathan and Stephen (the colleagues who worried and helped me at work this morning) and, as always, Aidan (the concerned and wonderful husband).

Some of you may already be aware that this time of year plays host to the World's Greatest Shave. Poor sods like me choose to shave their heads in support of Leukaemia research. I was a little early; the Shave doesn't officially start until Thursday, but since my hair was pissing me off, I bit the bullet and went for it.

This is me half an hour ago. With my accidental emo-fringe and very nearly a mullet.

This is what came off my head.

And this is me now!

For those of you who haven't yet, but would like to, you can support the cause by sponsoring me. Click on this link:

http://my.imisfriendraising.com.au/personalPage.aspx?SID=59435

if you would like to do so!

We bought a scanner! So, here is my shoe:

For the record: I have a cold, I'm tired, Elspeth is bashing me up from within. I'm so showing her this on her 21st to make her feel guilty.

This child of mine is definitely Aidan's. She's hyperactive, and getting so strong! I'm sure it won't be long before I can put a ping-pong ball on my stomach, as advised by Cazzie, and watch Elspeth kick it off from within! If she's like this at 22 weeks (well, it'll be 22 weeks tomorrow), what will she be like for the second half of the pregnancy?! It's so awesome to feel her in there; I tend to zone out a bit every time I feel her squirm and just focus on her instead of whatever I'm meant to be doing. I must look like I'm going batty sometimes, sitting with my hand on my belly and a faint smile on my face, staring at nothing!

I have to figure out when I'm going to stop working. I've already stopped riding my scooter; when you spend a good twenty seconds staring at a button wondering what it does, only to realise it's the ignition, that's when it's time to stop!! So I'm taking the bus, which is turning out a lot easier and quicker than I had previously thought. Anyway, I should be able to work up until quite near the due date; my job is not physically strenuous and I can sit down for most of the day. On the other hand, I'm already suffering vagueness and fatigue (suffering is probably not quite the right word; on the whole I love being pregnant); I'm not sure how that will effect my work performance as these "symptoms" will undoubtedly become more pronounced!

I also need to decide what and if and when and where to study. I mean, I know I want to complete some form of tertiary education, but being uncertain as to where we might be living for the next four years or so makes it difficult to contemplate anything other than online/correspondence courses. The problem with this is twofold: Firstly I'm not certain that I have the self-discipline to stick to my studies independently; and secondly I can't find any correspondence course that deals specifically with linguistics, which is what I'm very keen to study. I'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure: possibly a combination of on-and-off-campus learning, or just acknowledging that I may need to transfer to a different uni/mode of study halfway through. It'll all work out, somehow someday!!

I would like to address a post to an occasional reader who goes by the name of Ubiquitous.

It may come as a surprise to you to realise that I don't actually like you. It may further surprise you to know that this has nothing to do with our history or any wrong you may or may not have done me at any point (or vice versa). It is simply that your personality and mine do not match, and something fundamental about both of us prohibits me from liking you. It is at least as much myself as you who is to blame for this; I was essentially a child when we knew each other well and I have grown and changed considerably since then.

This blog exists for a couple of reasons. Firstly I created it as a diary, a memory aid, so that I could look back on what I'd been doing and feeling and thinking at any given time. Secondly, over time, this blog has become part of a network of friends and a way of keeping in touch.

I acknowledge that a blog exists in the public domain and that I have no right or power to actually stop somebody reading it. However, as you are not my friend and can have no real reason to be here, I ask that you restrain yourself from visiting as much as possible and refrain from leaving comments or any evidence of your presence at all.

Please don't think that this is my way of dealing with critisism. Critisism, particularly from you, does not worry me. I am not that insecure. I just want you to get over me, and leave me alone. I've tried to be sort of nice, but now I just want to be honest. Nobody else I dislike bothers contacting me, I see no reason for you to be different. Thank you, and goodbye.

People really annoy me.

So many people seem to think that the world owes them something, or that they should get something just because they want it.

WRONG!

You get what you work for, you receive in response to giving, you are owed what you lent.

A person in Australia has both privileges (sometimes confused with rights) and responsibilities. However, to my mind, you should forfeit your privileges when you shirk your responsibilities. For instance, if you do not drive your car in a responsible manner, your licence may be taken away from you. Driving is not your right; if it were you wouldn't need to pass a test in order to do so.

This rule of thumb extends to other, more abstract, concepts. Taking responsibility for your actions on the whole ensures the continuation of privileges such as respect as well as more tangible things.

But in our increasingly-Americanised society, accepting responsibility is a thing of the past. People blame the police for giving them a speeding fine (to stick with my cars/driving theme for now), yet never stop to think that they shouldn't have been speeding in the first place. In this time of passing-the-buck, why do we continue to allow privileges to those who do nothing to deserve them?

I'm going to switch now from driving to social welfare. In Australia, you can get payments from the government for a variety of reasons: being unemployed, being disabled, being a single parent, and so on. Many of these people, no doubt, are doing the best they can and maybe even looking for work to pay their own way. But a huge marjority, from my own observation, are just sitting back and letting the taxpayer support them via government pensions. Never do these people grasp control and responsibility for their own lives; they are content to leech off the system and do nothing to deserve the assistance they get. Whilst I fully support the concept of helping those in need, I object to helping those who haven't tried to help themselves.

Here's a nice little example, which doesn't reflect any particular individual but is a very common scenario:
Bob is a herion addict who lives in government housing. Bob has no job, and is a petty criminal to fund his drug addiction He thinks stealing is ok, because he's strung out for the next hit, man. His girlfriend Sue is an alcoholic who works a couple of hours a week as a check-out chick. Their small child lives with them in the home they are both too apathetic towards to clean. They're rarely sober or coherent enough to adequately care for the child, or even for themselves. Neither of them completed highschool, and neither have ever held a job for more than two months before getting fired. They've both been living off government benefits and paying just $50 a week in rent for an extended period of time.

These people have been given money and a home - they shoot up or get drunk with the cash and they shit on the home. (Literally: I've heard many stories of faeces trodden into carpet and used needles lying around.) There are rehabilitation programs and centres available (also provided by the government), but Bob and Sue have not bothered to take advantage of them. There are government-run employment agencies geared towards helping the disadvantaged. Our government will even pay for you to study at university if you want to, and you don't need to start paying them back until you're earning over $40,000. Every imaginable service is provided for them, and yet they continue to be a drain on society rather than contributing to it.

I begin to have trouble seeing why our government, or anybody, should continue to assist Bob and Sue and others like them. They have forfeited their responsibilities to themselves and to their community; why do we continue to grant them privileges and rights?

In my own country, when I have one, a person will have to satisfy strict criteria to qualify for any form of government assistance, and that will be limited. If you won't contribute to society and act as though you're part of it, you're on your own.

I've been feeling Bean (or, as I should now try to call her, Elspeth) move with increasing frequency and strength recently. But last night was the first time Aidan's been able to feel her from the outside! She booted him in the hand, and he pretended to be very upset. Those of you who are already mothers will likely understand when I say it's kind of eerie at the same time as being totally cool - there's a tiny person swooshing around inside there, and she's making herself known quite insistently! Very exciting, though. It's like a final confirmation: she's there, she's healthy, she's growing. I've also had people who I haven't said anything to ask me "How much longer?" so I'm obviously showing in a very pregnant-looking way now! It's getting slightly daunting: there are so many things I need to know and do and buy! But I have nearly five months until she's due, that's (hopefully) plenty of time to get organised. I'm booked in for prenatal classes in April/May, and a friend of a friend has recently given birth so there's a source of advice too, as well as that infinite resource known as the interweb. Not to mention my mother.

Anyway, I'd better go and get organised for something a little more immediate: work.

I get sad sometimes.

It's a girl!
Or a boy with a labia!

20 weeks from the outside


And 20 weeks from the inside!