Things that wobble…

1: Me
Especially around midnight last night when, on the way to bed, I get a tiny bit of spotting – the first since my non-period ended over a week ago. Despite S’s valiant efforts to reassure me that it’s perfectly normal (or so it says in our big shiny Dorling Kindersley book), I am distraught at the idea that something bad could be happening to the little dot inside me that I hope will grow into our baby. Cue lots of wobbling lip action as I try not to imagine the worst (but don’t really succeed). I am not scared at all about having this little (OK, a bit scared about childbirth but that’s what hardcore painkillers are for) but I am terrified that something will happen to it while I’m carrying it because I have sat down funny / eaten the wrong thing / breathed in some cat litter etc. I’m sure that this is normal for first pregnancies, what with all the hormones rushing round the place (and probably serves a biological purpose to make me be careful about what I’m doing). But goddamnit I want this little fella / lady to be safe and healthy so much. Thank god I have a husb with a smaller anxiety quotient (and big wife-hug factor). Luckily the spotting hasn’t reappeared today so fingloids crossed it was a one-off. I feel much more chilled about it anyway – nothing seems as bad in the light of day as it does in the middle of the night.

2: My boobs
That’s my rapidly expanding, bra-bursting, sore-nipped boobs. Ow.