Thank you all for your kind comments from my last post.
And before I forget, it is not because of Curly that I wasn't blogging about it, but because of my super-sensitivity to not knowingly rub anyone's noses into my seemingly good fortune.
I have actually said to Curly that I would take some of it off her hands were I able, and that is not just because I am altruistic.
You see, while there have been the occasional flutters and definite stretchings, I have an overactive imagination which, combined with a not currently overactive child and lack of proximity to my usual surrounds and doctor over the last week ended up with me freaking out on myself.
I had a dream just before going to my sister's that the baby had disappeared.
That coincided with my belly suddenly seeming like a larger proportion of fat than untum, the movements going from occasional pokes and kicks to just a wierd pushing in the top left corner and sleeping - or not sleeping - in a strange bed with fluffy pillows.
Who has fluffy pillows?
I am of the brick persuasion of pillow lovers, and once I awoke for my midnight wee could not get back to sleep any night I was at Granite Glen - I would love to blame the pillows but really, gnawing on the worry was a cyclical insomniacal trigger.
By yesterday when V brought us home, I was pretty well beside myself, and so went to the hospital just to check so I could hopefully sleep again.
Thankfully they were extremely understanding (having some experience of the hysteria of worrying mothers) and found a lovely strong heartbeat.
And do you know the little beggar has been kicking like crazy since then.
Never been a big fan of hide and seek.