5 days after I got vaccinated against the new influenza, it was actually on the way home from one of our date nights, I started having problems breathing properly, and I felt like shit. Yes, I said it: Shit. I crawled to bed shivering while trying not to get hysterical that it felt like I was gonna pass out from lack of oxygen. So I managed to take some pain killers and get some sleep.

The next day I called in sick, and then I read on the Norwegian Institute of Public Health’s website that pregnant women need to call their doctors if they get sick. A week back they were wondering if Norway had a different strain of the virus since there are more sick people here than in other countries, but let me tell you this: I know why! When I called my doctor’s office and told them who I was and that I had flu-like symptoms I was told that: “Well, then you just need to stay in bed until you get better!” I was a bit put off by the reply and said a little quiter that I had read that I was supposed to call since I was pregnant. And then she just said: “Oh, but then you need to get an appointment today!” So I did. But the doctor didn’t think I had the flu, but gave me sick leave for 11 days.

So here I am. My lungs hurt like hell when I cough, but the fever is gone, and if I don’t walk outside I have no problems breathing. I’m not welcome at work for another week cause they are afraid of getting sick too (which I don’t blame them for), so I sit here, playing FarmVille on Facebook, browsing the Internet for calendars and other things cute, and eat clementines. Could be worse.

Our little baby girl is having a blast though. Since I’m not moving too much nowadays, she’s awake more often than she usually is, so she’s kicking and squirming like there’s no tomorrow. I usually sleep through the night without having to get up to pee, but the past nights I’ve woken up cause she’s tossing and turning, and there’s a moving lump showing on my belly. I groan, cause, well, it hurts, so Christian wakes up. His response is always a cheerful: “Oh, hahaha, would you look at that!” Then he gently strokes the foot or whatever it is she’s using to try to make a way out of the womb with (I always imagine one of the aliens in the, uhm, Alien movies, when she does that), until she stops.

Sometimes I feel like my skin is gonna burst and that there can’t possible be enough space in there for a baby to grow, but then it suddenly doesn’t feel like that any more, which means that I’m stretching and growing even larger to compensate for the huge belly. I have this vision that when the baby is out, I’ll have a huge flab just hanging down to my knees with a tiny dent where my navel used to be. Is that a gross image, or what?

My baby girl is fine though. She’s tossing and turning in there all the time, and we’re hoping that means she’ll calm down when she’s out. People say that they miss the feeling of the kicks and whatnot after they have given birth, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy the kicks of the baby outside the womb more

Preggie yoga is now focusing more and more on the breathing through contractions. It freaks me out, cause that means it’s getting closer and closer to the big happening. I’m seriously happy that we’re pregnant for 9 months cause I’M NOT READY FOR THIS!

Picture from week #32, but I just had to post it. Pippi looks so curious.

Except that my belly button hasn’t popped yet! Huzzah!

But it hurts a bit, so I expect it will soon.

And little baby Doe has stopped kicking so violently and has instead started to stretch or whatever it is that she’s doing in there. Her feet are in my ribs a little bit too often. I even groaned “HNNNGHH!” in front of a customer the other day, because someone decided to stretch her legs into my right ribcage.

Dear Baby Doe,

The past week has been wonderful. I’m finally able to tell that your little kicks are actual kicks, and I can’t describe the feeling to know that you’re okay in there. We had an appointment for the standard ultrasound, the only one you get while you’re pregnant here in Norway, on Monday and that got me worried again. What if the kicks weren’t kicks? What if something was wrong? What if.., what if?

I’m sorry, but I can tell right now that I’m going to be a horrible overprotective mother, and I beg your pardon for that.

The ultrasound went well. You were kicking and boxing so hard that the doctor had to stop for a second every once in a while. We could count five fingers on each hand, but your toes were a little harder cause you were moving them so much. Your heart was okay, thank god, and your general development, too. Then there was the sex again. After kicking you decided to get shy, and turned your back on us. Cross-legged. So the doctor had problems saying what you are. She didn’t even want to say what she thought, but after a little bit of talking she said she would have guessed a girl. I must tell you right now that I have tried to tell your relatives that we’re not 100% sure that you’re a girl and that they shouldn’t assume that you are, but I’ve seen both pink and purple clothes, and I apologize for that if you’re a boy. I promise to get you lots of cars to play with to make it up to you.