It was a ridiculously bittersweet weekend.
I think - or at least am mostly certain - I felt the babies move this weekend. It wasn't a movement as much as it was flickerings. Soft nudges.
To be fair, I thought it might've been my digestive juices working overtime, after demolishing a gourmet burger at a pop up foodie market in Brockley.
As in, I thought it might've been gas.
But the movement itself has been consistent with the timings (I am just over 18 weeks) and it's whenver I am lying still they seem to awaken and start to flutter about ever so slightly. It's an amazing feeling. (Well, no, it literally feels like butterflies and/or gas), but to know they're moving around is kind of cool.
The Brit desperately slapped his hand over my bump, copping a feel and wanting in on the action. The flickers are so slight, it's very hard for him to distinguish them, but he looked up with big hopeful eyes saying , "Why can't I feel them? You get to feel all this action, I feel left out!"
Yes, well, I wonder if you'll be saying this when the action turns to piles and jabs in the ribs, darling.
Peas: I can try and poke them, maybe they'll move if we jiggle my tummy a bit.
Brit: No, we can't antagonize them surely.
Peas: Well I don't know, it's more like just moving them.
Peas: Wait, wait, there, THERE! Quickly, pass me your hand. Did you feel that?
Peas: Fuck. OK .....and now?
Brit: YES OH MY GOD YES! I.....think?
So thus we spent last night with our hands placed across various areas of my stomach.
- - -
Also! The Dove got engaged this weekend! BREAKING NEWS. One of my best buddies is going to get hitched, and bless her soul, has asked me to be her bridesmaid.
God knows what state my ass, stomach, boobs - general body vibe - will be in at that stage - but even if I have to wear a specially sewn post-natal satin sack, I'll be there. I am thrilled for her.
This is tough. It's too soon, so I'll try to keep it brief.
Given our hands are going to be full with our instantaneous family, and that we aren't going to know if it's night or day around here when the twins arrive, we are trying to simplify our lives.
That means creating more space, and getting rid of things that we won't have much time for anymore.
So, from beloved old furniture like my Louis chairs to...my guinea pigs.
They were rehomed yesterday. My beautiful, sweet little Wayne and Dwayne. My other twins. We won't have the space, or the time to be even slightly good parents. Hell, who would clean the cage?
I put them on a guinea pig adoption website (there is such a thing here) a few weeks ago, and hadn't heard anything back. We had tried all our friends and family, but none of them were keen.
Anyway, someone came forward last week. She is a student, living with two others in Bethnal Green and seemed lovely. She had owned guinea pigs before and mentioned she was from a farm in Devon. (We love the farmy types. What we want are farmy types for adoptive parents.)
They have a garden with springy, green grass and they all seemed lovely. Wayne & Dwayne would have a better life - they'd get way more outside time with these girls.
It was the right thing to do by them, to be brutally honest.
But that still didn't mean I didn't wail the whole way home and need to devour a massive macaroni cheese for supper (guilt, trauma-riddled eating). Am feeling completely deflated.
It was sad to say goodbye to my pets. The house is very quiet.
Devastating. They will have a better life, they will have a better a life, they will have a better life.