Tonight was by the far the scariest night of my life. It started with me standing up, and hello moisture down there. Lots and lots of moisture down there, enough to soak my knickers and my tights. I popped a pad in and called the women's assessment unit, who promptly told me to come up. So I did, they told me they suspected I was leaking my amniotic fluid. I thought I was going to have to call my husband and tell him I was having the baby tonight. With only a 50% chance of survival of my beautiful boy. Needless to say I was scared. I wanted to ring Matthew home straight away. I still do, I'm still freaked.
At least my boy is moving around and being healthy. Though I want my husband here. I'm not leaking fluid, its thrush, which is weird because thrush generally isn't clear. I'm still a mess, shaking, crying and cold. I want my husband and I want him now. My boy is being an endless comfort to me, and I have had nothing but kicks and nudges for the last ten or so minutes.
I'm going to have a shower, and calm down.

I held a newborn today. When I say newborn I mean a three week old, still newborn in my books. He was beyond cute. He had the tiniest fingers, and had SO MUCH hair. On his head, like where an adults hair grows. It was amazing. I probably found it more amazing because I was bald till I was two, and then was never really good at keeping my hair, to this day it falls out in bucket loads. My husband once found one of my hair's on his tooth brush, which lives in a plastic bag, in his going away bag. I have never even seen my husbands tooth brush, generally because we have only just broken the toilet rule (you know the whole if he's in there, your out here). Even then that rule was broken by accident). I found one of my hairs in the cheese in the fridge. They literally get everywhere. I wish I was joking, my husbands spotless uniform goes to work with my hair covering it like a fur coat because he had half asleep wife cuddles before he left for work. His teddy bear (which he totally doesn't sleep with -snort-) which I am never allowed near because of my teddy bear stealing tendencies, is partially ginger from my hair. Which leaves me with the question, how on earth do I possibly have any hair left on my head?  Seriously, I run my fingers through my hair and out comes handfuls of loose hair, which promptly get wiped on my husbands back, or dropped on the floor, which has a ginger coat due to our lack of vacumn (C'mon we have a box, there is literally to feet to vacumn). Either the way, the places my hair gets is extraordinary, unsantiary and where does it all come from?!

I got back from the doctors who share my care and they wanted to talk about the rules.
I have a condition, one that the can't (despite years of study) work out what it is. It makes me black out, fall to the floor and twitch. However it is not epilepsy. Definitely not epilepsy trust me. Anyway, so while they don't know what it is I can't drive (fair enough), am allowed to work (shame people won't hire me, and you have to tell them its a legal requirement) and have issues being pregnant.
My family gave me endless sh*te, saying it was irresponsible and selfish to even think about having a baby now. While I see there point, when I first started having these turns I stopped my life waiting for it to get fixed. Then reality hit, I shouldn't be putting my life on hold, it could take years (funnily enough it has) so I went to uni, and did things I wanted to do, which included getting pregnant. My husband and I agreed not to wait because as evidence showed it could take years and never go away.
Anyway, I went to the doctors and they told me when Baby come I am on epilepsy rules, which means that I can't walk with my baby, bath my baby (without my husband there) and I can't hold the baby unless I am sitting down, and I have to push my baby in the pushchair when I am home.
I understand all these rules, what I don't understand is how I am going to do it. My husband is in the navy, and goes away for long periods of time. My parents work full time and live in another town, same with mother-in-law and father-in-law. I can't get government help because my condition doesn't have a name.
Wahhh! *has crying jag*

Please ignore the mess behind me. 

The world hates me. Yes, I realize I am supposed to be cleaning, in my defense I got all the garbage together and went to take it to the bin, only to find the bin is gone. Doesn't exist anymore. So I took the garbage filled bags back to our house/box. On to the laundry, I found all the towels and piled them into the washing basket,a and put on a load of knickers and pants. 
I opened the drier to take the sheets out, only to find the lingering smell of damp. Apparently, my darling forgot to put the drier back on when he got his uniform out the other week. Rargh! 
So I am stuck. Also in a bit of pain. Beware TMI bit coming right up! 
Just now when I went to go pee, it was incredibly painful, it didn't hurt to pee but my entire under bit began to sting once I was done. SO (once more TMI I am sorry!) when I wiped, I had a quick look and there was blood, to accompany to the stinging.  I'm already on 2 different antibiotics for an infected ingrown toenail, and to accompany that I also have thrush. Gee, I am so happy right now. 

I am lazy, I have no qualms about this. I know it's true, it's why my darling and I still in live in our shoe box filled with piles of stuff from moving at the start of the month. Being pregnant has only made my laziness worse. Now, I have excuses to lie in my bed (or the living room which is the same thing) and nest. By nest I mean, quite literally, a nest. Of blankets, pillows, warm clothes, books, external hard drive, my DS, wedding pictures, Burger king wrappers, and the stupid pickled onion jar that I can't get the lid off of. My excuse is always true (I am actually not joking here) and always passes my darlings standards. I'm tired, my back is so sore (speaking of which I have physiotherapy for that tomorrow), I have cramps again, I'm nauseous, I had a fit (which by the way they have decided is psychosomatic, which is interesting and complete bull but any way) and once more my personal hell dashing from the bed through the kitchen to the loo to throw up again.
For the above stated reason sand the fact that my husband is currently off doing military stuff that may or may not involve the police, including my uncle (whose wife is due to give me another cousin in less than a month while he is uncontactable on a tiny grey boat sharing a room with my husband. If that baby comes early, there are going to be some issues and I bet my phone will be rung in an attempted to get a hold of them since I can get a hold of the ship in event of an emergency. Anyway). My house, sorry, my box masquerading as a house currently contains week old dishes, a dead goldfish (which I can't touch till I get rubber gloves, doctors/ midwives orders), a pile of washing, two bags of rubbish waiting to be taken down the hall, and piles of things needing to find somewhere to live before the husband gets home in six weeks time.
Its disgusting. I know, believe me I know, and I do intend to do something about it, tonight. Because I am out of food, money (damn doctors appointments, by the way my toe is very badly infected, this is the second course of antibiotics I am paying for to heal it), and clean underwear. Though not clothes, because the joy of my current childless state is the fact that I don't have to get dressed in the mornings. I can walk around in my underwear all day. Good thing too, cause none of my clothes fit anymore. I really, really, need to stop being cheap and buy some pregnancy clothes cause my size 12 clothes that I have been wearing since I was 10 no longer cut it.
My darling encourages me to buy new clothes, but it really goes against the grain.
Anyway, house cleaning. I swear that tonight I will take out the rubbish, do the dishes, the laundry, shower (which has been avoided for the simple fact that I can't lean down to pick up my body wash so well anymore) , put the clean sheet on the bed, and put some bread on so tomorrow I can eat something other than cheese. Good plan.
Also, at some point, I need to transfer some money so I can buy new body wash, preferably a kind that I stick to the wall so I don't have to bend over, or do the weird my belly is too pregnant  squat thing, the one that makes my darling and my mother laugh so much. I also need to buy toilet cleaner. Must not forget! Should definitely ask to make sure that it is okay for me to spend his money (I know exactly what he'll say too "For goodness  sake Holly we are married, you can use my money I don't care!" because that is what he says every single time)
Okay I am going to be non-lazy for about three hours, or until the simpsons start whichever is first. I mean, hey, I am running out of time to be lazy, sleep all I want and watch non child appropriate television. Only 106 days of this freedom to go after all.

There is a post on a forum I am on at the moment about condescend to young mums, I am going to be a young mum but I got lucky. I planned to be a young mum, and I do get upset when people judge me, thinking that my pregnancy is an accident. I don't often get too much attention due to my wedding ring and the fact I look older than I am.
When it happens I tend to ignore it, but I do get trouble from some women at the hospital, staff usually.

People talk to me now. Randoms ask how far along I am, what I have been craving, when I am due and other exciting things. I am indeed excited.

It is not advisable to slip down the stairs and break your shoes while your pregnant. For one, in just a week I will be three months from my due date and despite the fact I have put on exactly zero weight I am starting to drop things and wonder if it is really worth picking them up, or I attempt to pick them up with my feet. So falling on my back often means I do a gaara impersonation (see above picture).  Putting on shoes is something that must happen sitting down, or I will lose my balance and fall, I am not dealing well with the center of gravity changes.
Last night my darling and I were headed out to go buy video games to keep me entertained. We reached the front of our building where the stairs are steep and about 90 years olds. I walk these steps generally twice a week (the only times I leave our building), and have never had an issue with them, but as my womb moves up over my belly button and begins to reach my ribs, my balance is lightly off. I slipped last night, one moment I was perched at the top of the stairs the next my entire body was lying across the stairs. My feet poking through my sandals which had ripped under the entire weight of a twenty year old pregnant women. Poor shoes had served me well since I broke my previous sandals (which were much easier to get on) a month before by tripping on the curb. My back which took the impact of four stairs was aching, and my knee which I attempted to stop myself sliding with also ached.
So instead of getting a video game we trotted down the block to number one shoes to pick up a new pair of those before going to the video game store, and to get me something cold, so I could make sure my little guy was okay. He is, frozen coke really did the trick. He kicked right up till we went to bed.
I woke up this morning with what I suspect are bruises on my back, and pain still evident. Oh dear, don't fall down stairs when pregnant ladies, it hurts.