There were two packets on the dinning room table when I left for work this morning. One contained my decaf coffee and all my snackies and breakfasts for the next couple of weeks. The other contained three-pronged plugs we bought on the weekend.

Guess which one I brought with me to work this morning?

and, Mr. CEO, I booked my c-section for my boy for the 1st of October. Well, Doc is 95% sure it is a boy after my last scan (Tuesday). Who would have thought? Not me. I even warned my hubby that I wouldn’t go past 3 children in trying for a boy, so convinced was I that I’d be continuing the strong female lines in my family. For the record Mr. CEO, I am surprised. Nearly 15 weeks now, and I fit into less than half of my old wardrobe, but it’s all good.

I bought a thermometer yesterday, from my local veterinary supplies shop - they assured me it was manufactured for human use. We didn’t have one, and I thought I might like one to check if I really was dying from this ultra-persistent cold that’s been stalking me for the last while. I bought this one:

Nowhere on the box does it say “Made in China / Hong Kong / Japan”, but one classic piece of poor translation gives it away. Most of the package insert is translated in an understandable if still evident manner, with the exception of this classic point under the ‘notices’ heading:

Help user to be that square qualified technical staff repair, by but repair the parts that manufacturer appoint, can demand to offer to our company.

I think that means that only square people can repair this product, and they can demand to offer their services to the company if they wish to do so Take your own guess and put it in the comments section.

Oh, and it turns out I’m not dying. Or if I am, I’m doing so with a normal body temperature.

And now, because I don’t have much to say, I’ll give you some (poor quality taken with my phone) pictures.

My favorite girl dog, Cilla catching a nap while I got ready for work this morning. She manages to look so snuggly, despite being on a hard floor with one leg twisted out behind her at an awkward angle – she always lies like that.

George checking out the cat who ventured outside to check out the garden from the safety of the patio. She’s a really timid creature, but isn’t at all bothered by George who would really like to eat her and has been caught standing with his open mouth above her neck, drooling on her. She was totally oblivious, and he didn’t do anything, just held that pose. It’s a strange relationship they have.

The cat, her name is PussyCat because well, we couldn’t seem to come up with anything else, getting ready to pounce on the shadow created by me taking her picture of her in one of her favorite spots – behind the couch. Attacking shadows and light reflections (from your watch for example) are about as brave as she gets. Oh, and she sometimes attacks her own feet around a table leg.

12 weeks is touted by many as this magic time when your pregnancy friend nausea just ups and leaves you. Week 12 was when my nausea took up residence in the spare bedroom and started following me around like a Labrador. But yippee! This past week (13) has been so much better. Nausea still waits for me in the morning, pouncing on me as soon as my feet hit the floor, but after a stern chatting to I can convince it to stay at home while I go to work and continue with my day. Without Nausea around I am also much less hungry. Strange but true …

It’s been an eventful week. Hunny discovered a small red bump on his upper arm on Sunday. He thought it was just a zit or something. By Wednesday it had taken over a sizeable section of his upper arm. After some convincing he went to the doc to get it checked out. Well, my friendly doc wanted him to go directly to Sunninghill clinic and get it removed. By then it had killed off the skin covering its peak, which peeled of with the plaster and left a nice big suppurating wound.

Determined to be a man about this Hunny didn’t go directly to the hospital, but agreed to go to the hospital if it wasn’t looking any better by Thursday morning. Well it wasn’t, and he did. He sms’d me around 10:30 AM to ask me to bring him some nightclothes and a book because he might be staying the night. They were going to operate that afternoon, under general anesthetic!

I don’t think I have been as at a loss of what to do in my life, so I went shoe shopping. Well actually, I had planned to go and look for some new shoes at lunchtime, and being as Hunny didn’t need the clothes and things immediately, I full-filled that plan and bought two cue new pairs of shoes. I realize that makes me sound like a totally heartless wife, but really I think it was a coping mechanism. I wasn’t needed at the hospital yet, and I couldn’t concentrate on work, so I had to do something else …

I got to the hospital about half an hour before Hunny went into theatre. He was getting changed into one of those sexy gowns and paper underpants when I arrived

The really great anesthetist, Lance, sent me an sms when we went under, and another just before he finished up in theatre, so I was ready and waiting, pacing the halls when the very serious surgeon came looking for me. Everything went well he said, but Hunny would have to stay the night. He also told me that they removed a lot of necrotic tissue, Hunny should have come in the day before, and he’s lucky that it hadn’t spread too much between Wednesday and Thursday. I went home and looked up necrotic tissue: it means dead tissue. I also did some research on why an abscess could be such a critical thing. Well, gangrene would be the reason! Shew! Things we didn’t know. Hunny thought it would burst and sort itself out on its own.

It’s Friday, and Hunny is still in the hospital, but the wound is looking better. Less swollen and infected. He’ll still need to stay in another night though, mostly just so they can clean out and dress the gaping hole in his arm at their own convenience. He’s off the antibiotic and pain medication drip, so at least he can wonder around the hospital.

Anyways, looks like this was the culprit: the Brown recluse spider. When Hunny told me the name and I looked it up on wikipedia I was shocked and horrified. That image on the top right of the page is far too familiar! We have sightings of these little guys in our house at a rate of probably a couple a week. We usually just leave them be. They kill some mosquitoes and they stay out of your way. I expect we’ll be fumigating the house in the near future.

To show people why you would need to be admitted to hospital for a simple spider bite we took some picture evidence of the very grim looking suppurating abscess that laid claim to a vast potion of Hunnys left arm. The swelling that extended down to his elbow. I think I’ll leave them for him to post though, it’s his story after all. I’ll link when he posts, if you are into looking at really gross images.

On a different note, what is it about some people that make them so determined to bring you around to their way of thinking about childbirth? I just had my company’s CEO telling me to “think about”:
1. Not finding out the baby’s sex before it’s born
2. Having natural childbirth
3. Forgoing pain medication when I do so.

Something about true surprises, challenges, being designed for this kind of thing, and showing how we are different as women. Not sure he knows that much about being a woman.

But surely I get to make this decision on my own? Of course by ‘own my own’ I mean with my husband and my medical practitioners advice only.

And what’s with peoples need to ask “Was it planned”? This pregnancy was planned, but why do I need to tell that you? What if it weren’t? Then you have just put me in a position where I must either lie, or confess that I had an oopsy, where I’ll then need to qualify that we are excited about the baby anyway and you’ll still wonder if I might resent the pregnancy and child.

Or maybe I’m just touchy because I’m pregnant.

I must say that not everyone is that so pushy about it. One male colleague (he has 4 kids)  who overheard the CEO’s closing arguments said to me that for what it’s worth, he thinks there is nothing wrong with taking ‘the easy way out’ as my CEO put it. Thanks for the support Johan; it means a lot to me.

I’m off to visit my love in the hospital now. Have a great weekend all.

Life kinda hit normal again this week (well, so far) so I’m putting my blogging socks back on…

Lets see, since my last brief but momentous post (for me anyway) lots has happened. I am now 12 weeks pregnant. We had another scan last Friday and all looks great. It was really awesome to see the little one sleeping peacefully (takes after Mom). Doc then nudged around a bit to get Junior to move, where upon he/she did a big stretch, yawn, and then pretty much went back to sleep. I love this kid

The Doc also made an early prediction that this may be a boy. Of course this is way too soon to say for certain, but if she were to put money on it, she’d say boy. She also said she wouldn’t put money on it.

We decided we’d tell this news to the family, a decision I’m regretting slightly. When we uttered the words “looks like it might be a boy”, seems all the family heard was “boy!”. My mom-in-law was so excited (I’d previously said that I thought it would be a girl – just my own feeling) that she burst into tears. She came round two days later with 3 little boy outfits! So while I wasn’t hoping either way before, now I’m offering up some prayers that it is a boy after all, just to spare the (initial) disappointment.

Roughly the third question everyone asks me when they hear I’m pregnant is “So what about your horse / Are you going to stop horse-riding?”. It’s been getting on my nerves a bit. I don’t want to endanger my unborn child, but seriously folks! I’ve been riding a minimum of 5 times a week since I was around 6 years old! I haven’t driven a car that often, but no-one asks me if I’m going to stop driving. I think I can do this sensibly. I haven’t been riding much (time constraints and other issues) since I found out I was pregnant, and it’s been driving me insane. At first it wasn’t too bad. I was so tired I wouldn’t want to go and ride, but now my energy is returning I feel this profound loss off accomplishment. It’ll be 10 PM and time to go to bed but I don’t want to go! I don’t feel like I have done anything all day – despite working 10 or 12 hour days recently.

So yes, I will continue riding – gently and with consideration – a couple of times a week until it feels unsafe. If I start to loose balance or get anxious about it, I’ll stop. If my horse is having a bad/mad day, I’ll get off. I won’t do any jumping or competitions. I will be sensible about it. I can do that.

Anyway, enough about that.

I have noticed from my Google Analytics stats that I get fairly regular hits from India, Dillip, is that you? If it is, leave a comment and say Hi …

Also, quite a few folks have found my blog searching for Smiths Motorcycles. I’d expect it’s this post that brings them here. While I didn’t explicitly say that Smiths was where I had such shocking service with my bike, I did tag them on the post, and I suppose you can draw the link yourselves. Well, the guy can do a good job, but it may just take you half a year to get your bike back …

Well, that’s all for now folks. Will try to post a little more regularly again.