You know you're really pregnant when ...

the lady at the cafe in the Dompost building and her daughter who works the coffee machine have been discussing whether you are showing or just fat. Funny, they thought that Sweeney was my baby because of how much he comes to visit me. Before they knew my name they called me 'the girl with the baby'.

I must say, I am LOVING maternity pants. No more being cut in half by my waistband! I don't know why they don't have stretchy waistbands on all trousers. They really rock. I am also loving that empire lines are in, so I can get cheap goodies at Glassons in the coming months and not have to buy special maternity tops. I'm 14 weeks today, but still have a pretty upset stomach and the mornings are punctuated by outrageous burping that makes the cat sit up in surprise.

The subs are discussing the last episode of the Sopranos so I'm blocking my ears. I haven't seen this half of the series because 9.30pm is way past this old girl's bedtime, I'm going to have a marathon when it comes out on DVD. The Sopranos are to me what Harry Potter is to those weirdos who like Harry Potter, so when it's over it'll be like losing a friend.

And in other news, the Postie and I are off for a weekend stay at a homestead between Lake Ferry and Featherston tonight. And next weekend, we're off to Noosa finally - I can't wait to be warm again...

Wellington's Next Top Interview Subject

I've been doing a story about models and what it's like to model in Wellington. I interviewed an incredibly gorgeous woman this morning about it, and here was me having just scarfed a sausage roll, hair pulled back into a bun because I got up too late to wash it, crusts in my eye corners, the same pair of stained brown cords on I've been wearing all week and unbrushed teeth. Talk about skanky.

Anyway, it has recently come to my attention that I look as if I have eaten too many pies. I'm too small for real maternity clothes, but wearing my normal sized clothes feels like I have to go to the toilet all the time. And I can't stop burping. That too made interviewing a 22-year-old model a less glamorous experience that I would have liked. If I had the chance, I would walk around with my top button undone all the time, but that wouldn't go down too well in a professional environment, I'm sure.

Who is this mysterious Postie?

Many of you have been asking who is the Postie?

A-hem.

He's this guy who I happen to be rather fond of, he's kinda cute in a weird facial hair kind of way, he is an actual correspondence delivery technician and yes, he's what some would call my boyfriend. He's also my flatmate which means it's impossible for him not to see me look like a hag when I have morning sickness, but is very handy when I need a piece of toast made and want to stay lying down. He's been rather impressive throughout these difficult months when I've been a bit of a Kimpy-shaped blob. What does he get out of all this? Why, he gets to rub oil on my gloriously white puku. Lucky, lucky man.

I realise my last few posts have been about being pregnant, which is a thing that has happened to a lot of people before me, so what I have to say is nothing new. I promise not to whine on about morning sickness too much longer. Seriously. I'm still slightly disbelieving that this is happening to me, as I had become quite content with the idea of not having kids. So let me rave on a little bit longer. Thanks. Over and out.

A random list of things that I have learned since becoming pregnant

1. If you have morning sickness, the bus will be late and crowded and smell bad. The man you sit next to will have coated himself in cheap cologne and someone will be eating a pie.
2. You don't get a bump so much as a lump that looks like you need to do more sit-ups. People will check out your stomach a lot.
3. All love songs are really about babies. Obviously.
4. It is possible for a grown up, 34-year-old, well-educated woman to have the concentration span of a ... what was I saying?
5. It is possible for a neat freak to develop a teenage inability to tidy up after themselves, but still be enraged by the messiness of others.
6. Someone somewhere will hate the name you have stayed up all night thinking about giving your child and think is really, really cool.
7. Someone you know will tell you the worst labour story ever. Don't listen to them.
8. Everybody everyone knows is pregnant. It's not that special.
9. The morning after pill is not something to be relied on.
10. Crying in the doctor's reception area or losing your temper with a nurse will not get you anywhere, even if it feels good.

How can I go to Cambodia again if I have a baby?

Me, Cambodian-Thai border at Poipet, April 2005. At my feet are a lot of small boys pulling on my trousers, but no babies.

I've been having the most vivid dreams lately, and last night I had one about one of my favourite places in the world, Cambodia. I was riding on a motorbike with my ex-boyfriend Derek and my friend Janna who I was there with in real life last time I went. We were zooming through the post-wet season countryside and everything was a lot lusher and hillier than the times I've been there which have both been in the hot season. I was thinking to myself that I would really like to go back to Cambodia, chuck in my job and just go live there so I could see all the seasons. But there was this nagging in my mind about something I had forgotten. Of course, I'm having a baby and can't possibly just take off like that anymore!

Then I lay there in the dark, and thought, me and Tiny can go anywhere we please, as long as I can get work. Surely - that's what I hope. And of course the Postie will be keen to come with us too. The need to work seems to me more of a leash than having a child does, and though my job is great and my boss Sue is the greatest, I'm looking forward to finishing work at Christmas and having a month to grow my baby and get ready for its arrival. And then spend a year getting to know them.

As well as getting used to the idea that I'm pregnant, and that there's a person in my body that I don't know yet but am going to know everything about, I'm also getting used to the idea that I now belong to my own little family. After Derek, I was by myself for 18 months, some of which were hard while I got over him, some of which were liberating while I lived by myself and made all my own decisions. I've become used to my own company, of doing everything for myself, of planning for noone but myself, and suddenly I have two other people to take into consideration. And then there's our families who will want to be part of Tiny's life in a big way.

But on the other hand, I was sitting on the couch with the Postie last night, and Charlie crawled onto our laps and curled up with us. And I thought about how there were four of us piled onto that two-seater and it made me very happy indeed.

My blog is lovely ...

A woman called Charlotte left a comment on my blog yesterday and asked me to write a little bit about blogging for her new weebsite Lovely Blogs. What an honour! I'm on there with some of my faves - tiny happy, Toast and Cupcakes to name a couple. I feel kind of semi-famous.

A pregnant pause

So yeah, I've got a new project. I'm growing a baby.

It's almost 12 weeks old, and the last six weeks have been possibly the longest EVER apart from maybe counting down to go overseas, because I've been sick with morning sickness and zonked out with tiredness - common first trimester complaints. But that all seems to be coming to an end as I head into the second trimester... I'm about to start showing and I'm officially allowed to tell people but to me it still seems a very surreal experience. I've just come from the 12 week scan where they test for chromosonal abnormalities by measuring the skin at the back of the baby's neck, known in our household as The Mong Test. The radiologist said everything was looking good healthwise, but we have yet to get formal results. The postie didn't get all misty-eyed at seeing the wee flickery heart beating like I did, he remained quite stony throughout. The baby looked like pictures of scans I'd seen before, a cute wee head, little hands and feet, and it was springing around in my uterus like it's a bouncy castle. It's so weird to think that's going on in my body right now, when all anyone can see is me sitting here typing and smiling to myself a little bit.

So yeah, a new project. An unplanned one, one that has taken some getting used to, and one that will come to fruition in January.

The postie and I plan to find a new flat after we holiday in Noosa (a pre baby plan, I'll be four months pregnant when we get over there), and strollers seem to be our hot topic of conversation lately. That and rocking chairs. His parents and my parents are pleased as punch, Sweeney seems oblivious to the whole thing, but Sweeney's parents are stoked he'll have a cousin.

We are going to find out what flavour it is, but not for another two months or so. I think finding out what sex the baby is doesn't ruin the surprise, as the surprise when a baby is born is that you get a person, not a sex. When I think about the Kid I think about a wee girl, but in my dreams, which are vivid and literal at the moment, the Kid is a boy. I dreamt one night I was having a political discussion with it when it was aged ten and he had shoulder length dark hair all shaggy like teenagers do. I looked at him and thought "wow, I made you." It was wild.

Raffle winners

At last, the winners of the great Oxfam Raffle

* Baby gear goes to Moyra Poipoi of Alicetown
* Grown up gear goes to Lauri Dower of Auckland
* Madame Fancy Pants necklace goes to Jo Hubris
* Toast Clothing bag of his choice goes to Sam Broad (Rhiannon - I will send you his contact details so you guys can sort out what he wants)

All winners will be contacted stat!


Many many many thanks again to all those who sold tickets, donated goods and gave generously.

K xx